


Ghost Wolf

by InyrilJace



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, F/M, Fake Science, Lyrium, Science, Slavery, Violence, Wolves, no magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2019-10-18 19:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17586698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InyrilJace/pseuds/InyrilJace
Summary: Hawke loves her life: helping Anders in his clinic, conducting her research and aiding the rehabilitation of injured or abused creatures. Yet the white wolf is unlike any she has ever worked with before, rejecting all hints of kindness.Undeterred, Hawke makes it her personal mission to get this wild animal back on its feet. But the harder she works, the more she uncovers, and the more terrible is the truth that comes to light ...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I know I'm meant to be working on my other fics, not starting a new one. But I've had this fic title rolling around in my head since 2016 and I figured it was about time I actually did something with it. The plot has changed several times before I even started writing anything, but I'm happy with what I've got now and can't wait to get the ball rolling!
> 
> So here we go. I'm hoping to really inflict the angst with this one, so buckle up ;)

_Mama, Mama, help me get home_  
_I'm out in the woods, I am out on my own._  
_I found me a werewolf, a nasty old mutt_  
_It showed me its teeth and went straight for my gut._  
– Delirium, Lauren Oliver.

Hawke smiled to herself as she tapped on her phone screen, the dim light glowing off her face. Music emanated from the car's speakers, bass throbbing out a beat that her foot tapped along to reflexively. The buzzing of text messages had been so persistent over the last ten minutes that her curiosity had forced her to pull over and pull her phone out.

Of course it was the group chat. Aveline had asked a question, Isabela had offered an inappropriate answer, Anders had thrown his two cents in – and it had all devolved from there. Grinning fiercely at Aveline's latest protests, Hawke typed out another reply and sent it.

She should put the phone down and keep driving. Her friends could wait a little longer for more of her scintillating wit. As it was, Hawke already had two messages from Bethany warning her that she was out too late, along with a message from their mother worrying about her and urging her to come home quickly. But a new comment from Varric had her plunging straight back into the conversation with no heed for the late hour.

Night had fallen several hours ago. At this time of year, that was nothing special, as the nights grew longer and the days shorter. Yet Hawke was in a remote area, surrounded by endless fields on one side and black forests on the other. She had not passed another car in the last half hour and had not seen even a house in five miles. She was sitting quite literally in the middle of nowhere playing on her phone instead of driving home with all haste.

Her mother would have screamed at her in exasperation. Hawke merely read a new message and gave her reply.

The song on her stereo changed and Hawke found her head bobbing along, the words softly sung under her breath as she focused on the group chat. Sebastian had just chimed in, complaining that the endless stream of messages was keeping him awake and couldn't they all just wait until the morning? That provoked an outpouring backlash and Hawke threw in her own protests against Sebastian's complaint.

She really should get going. She was meant to be opening up the clinic for Anders in the morning and she was not the most coherent person in the early hours, even when she got a decent night's sleep. If she kept letting herself be distracted like this –

The sound of a rear car door opening yanked Hawke's attention away from her phone. Her head spun as a figure crashed into the car, hastily slamming the door behind them as they fell across the seat.

"Drive, now. Drive!"

The voice was deep and rough. Hawke sputtered, phone falling from her hands as she twisted in her seat. Her heart raced in her chest as her mind struggled to process the outrageous demand.

"Who the hell are you? Get out of my car!" She needed to get a look at them, get some detail that she could remember. But the figure had a hood drawn up and the dim light of the car's dashboard was not enough to illuminate features.

"I said-" the figure lurched towards her and Hawke froze, breath trapped in her lungs, as the razor sharp edge of something cold and metal pressed against her throat, "-drive!"

She could not remember putting the car into gear, nor what the road looked like ahead of her. All she knew was the knife on her skin and the deep, laboured breaths of the man behind her. A fog enveloped her mind, drowning out all thoughts and leaving only pure survival instincts. Fingers trembled on the steering wheel and her knuckles were white. Her phone continued to blink at her feet, oblivious to the danger looming over her shoulder.

Hawke could not say how long or how far she drove. She could not even tear her eyes away from the road to risk a glance in the rear vision mirror. What if he took it as a threat? What if he slipped? What if he had no intention of letting her walk away from this?

Her pulse jumped in her throat, fluttering against the blade as though desperately begging for her life. Tears pooled in her eyes but Hawke fought them back, terrified of showing any weakness.

"Stop the car."

She almost slammed her foot on the brake, all too desperate to get this man _out._ Yet she caught herself in time and brought the car to a quick but gentle stop. Hawke held her breath; what now?

The blade began to retract and she felt raw relief pouring through her veins. Yet suddenly it was back, pressing harder than before as she recoiled against the driver's door, barely daring to breathe for fear of jostling the knife. The man leant close into her, his breath hot on her clammy skin as he snarled into her ear.

"You never saw me. I was never here. Got that?"

The blade jabbed harder and Hawke barely held back a whimper, nodding jerkily. A low growl of warning rumbled in the man's chest – before he was gone, blade leaving her skin and car door slamming shut as the man ran out into the night.

Hawke sagged as her mind processed that he was gone, she was still alive and _safe_. Yet the terror lingered and she fumbled blindly through her car, groping until she found the button to lock all the doors. She pounded it over and over, shallow breaths rising faster and faster until she let out a scream.

Fists slammed into the steering wheel as she cursed and screamed. Tears burned her eyes and she angrily swiped at them – only to find them already staining her cheeks. Hawke cursed again and slapped herself, trying to shake herself out of it. She was better than this, she was stronger than this!

Yet she had never endured anything like this before. Her life had never been threatened in such a visceral way. And so she could not help but break down in the car, crying and hating herself until the adrenaline had worn itself out and she was left with nothing but fear and exhaustion.

Common sense began worming its way back to her and Hawke looked around for her phone. She found it kicked almost all the way under her seat and picked it up with shaking hands that struggled to unlock it. Jumpy fingers tripped numbly across the screen and she had no idea what she was doing until the call connected and she heard a familiar voice on the other end.

 _"Hawke? Do you have any idea what time of night it is?"_ asked a mildly irritated voice.

"Aveline!" She choked back a sob, but not well enough, for Aveline hesitated only a beat before asking her where she was and what had happened. All irritation was gone, replaced with the serious, level tone that worked wonders for soothing Hawke's irrational fear.

She forced the words out, recounting the terrible events that only seemed more real as she spoke them. Aveline kept her calm, prodded her with the right questions and reminded her to breathe. She coached Hawke through switching on her location and giving Aveline a map reference. She was deliberate and steady and it was exactly what Hawke needed.

_"Stay in the car, Hawke. I'm coming to get you."_

"Obviously!" Hawke barked out a brittle laugh. "You honestly think I'd get out and go looking for him?"

 _"Stranger things have happened after events like this,"_ was the firm, no-nonsense reply. _"I need you to calm your breathing and remember everything you can about him. Talk to me. What did he look like, sound like? Did he fill the car with his body or did he seem small in comparison?"_

"No, he didn't, he …" Hawke trailed off, mind straining. "I … I don't remember anything about him."

_"Yes you do, you just need to give your mind some time. So talk me through it again. What happened?"_

Hawke could hear Aveline getting into her own car, connecting her phone to the bluetooth and starting the engine as she continued the questions. Hawke forced herself to focus, to go back to the first series of events and talk it through again.

He had been fast, very fast. Average size, perhaps. No, she hadn't gotten a good look at him. It was dark. Hood – he had a hood! But no features, no eye colour, nothing. Only …

Hawke remembered his hot breath on her skin and the smell that had permeated her nostrils, forgotten until this moment but now seared into her memory forever. He had smelled of wood smoke and … something strange. Something sharp and almost biting. Something unlike anything she had ever smelled before. Something that ignited her senses and made her hair stand on end.

Something dangerous. As Aveline continued her soothing words and prompting questions, Hawke knew that smell would haunt her until she could identify exactly what it had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Of course, where are my manners? I am Professor Danarius of Minrathous."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was that about updating quickly? Did I say that?? Whoops!

"Hawke! What are you doing here? I told you not to worry about coming in."

Anders hurried over to her as she entered through the clinic's glass door, concern all over his face. Hawke rolled her eyes and batted away his offered hands.

"I'm fine, Anders. Really. I already said I'd open up the clinic this morning and I intended to keep that promise – although it seems that you've beaten me to it, anyway." She quirked a judging eyebrow and the tall man smiled sheepishly.

"I couldn't sleep, I had to come and check on our latest patients. And after Aveline texted me, I decided not to go home and to just stay here … Look, Hawke, I really think you should be at home. Having a random stranger hijack your car at knifepoint like that must have been incredibly traumatic. You should be resting-"

"No," she said sternly, face hardening. "You don't get to scold me for not taking care of myself when you won't even listen to your own advice! Get a proper sleep routine going and then come talk to me."

She pushed past him and heard the frustrated sigh that left his mouth. Yet he did not argue; Anders always knew when to back down from her.

"Besides," Hawke continued, "I left my laptop here and I need it for my paper. So there really was no point to staying home with nothing to do. I'm much more useful here."

The main clinic reception was a simple affair, all large glass walls with chairs lining the walls and another row in the centre of the room. The reception desk was a little worn but still entirely functional. An ancient computer hummed away at the desk, a myriad of post-it note reminders stuck to the edges of the screen. To the right of the desk were two doors, one leading first to a small staff room followed by the more surgical rooms; and the other door leading to a long hallway with consultation rooms branching off it. The only other notable feature in the reception room was the heavy steel-reinforced door to the left of the desk. Locked at all times, it required a swipe card to open it.

"How is your research going?" Anders asked as he followed Hawke into the staff room. She stowed her bag on top of her laptop in her cubby and shot him a sideways glance.

"Well enough. I still want to give it a couple more weeks of observation before I finalise the results, just to be sure that the integration has been successful. But the deadline isn't for another month, so I've got time."

"Alright, good. Well, let me know if you need any help with it."

"Sure. But since I'm here, why don't you go get some rest and let me finish getting everything set up for the day?"

Hawke fixed him with her signature expression that Carver liked to call _mulish_. Hawke argued that it was a stubborn expression, not mulish. To which Carver always argued that there was no difference. Whilst the expression might not have much effect on her brother, Anders was a whole other story.

He was tired, Hawke could see that clearly enough. Anders had gotten good at hiding it but she knew the shadows around his eyes were not simply _part of his complexion_ as he often told people. She recognised the slump of his shoulders and the way he rolled his jaw to try and keep from yawning.

All it ever took was a little prodding from her for him to back down. And he did so now, seeing the clear logic in her words. Anders nodded and offered a small smile.

"Very well. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take a little nap."

"Exactly," Hawke agreed, already pushing him towards a door at the back of the staff room which contained his shoebox of an office. "Anyway, as far as I remember your first surgery isn't until ten. Plenty of time for you to get a few hours in."

With Anders headed for the cot squished against the back wall of his office, Hawke took her laptop out to the reception desk, plugged it into the charger, then headed for the security door. The door beeped as it accepted her swipe card and then she was through, the heavy door closing behind her as she stepped out onto a concrete path.

A short walk down to the kitchen and then Hawke was falling into the familiar routine. Merrill had left everything prepped the day before so it was a simple matter of loading the feeds into the back of the buggy and heading out to the enclosures.

First up were the druffalo and rams. They were waiting at the fenceline, hungry noises and restless bodies betraying their impatience. Hawke spoke cheerily to them as she tossed in the hay and emptied the bucket of fruit.

She continued along the line of enclosures. From the cute and docile herbivores, Hawke worked her way through to the more dangerous creatures. Animals like deepstalkers and mountain lions were fed with careful consideration until Hawke came to the last set of enclosures.

Anders' clinic held the largest wolf packs in the whole country. Wolf numbers were declining in the wild and they hoped to change this, through rehabilitation and careful breeding programs. It would take years to accomplish any of it – but Anders had not dedicated his life to animal welfare for nothing.

Hawke loved the wolves. They reminded her of the family mabari but with a much more noticeable feral quality about them. Friendly and gentle though the wolves might seem towards the staff at the clinic, Hawke knew that even one misstep could shatter that trust and lead to a devastating attack.

Still, she could not help herself when the wolves came running at the sound of her voice. She scratched behind their ears and under their chins as they pressed against the fence, eager for the attention. Hawke let herself steal those few moments, a smile consuming her face.

"Good morning, my pretties!" she cooed to the large beasts. "You're all looking wonderful today. Now who's hungry, hmm?"

With the wolves fed at last, Hawke returned to the kitchen and cleaned out the feeding gear before prepping for the next feeding time. By the time she returned to the clinic's reception, it was almost nine o'clock. She flipped the sign from _closed_ to _open_ then settled herself behind the desk and began checking the accounts.

Aside from the large number of animals on site as part of the rescue and rehabilitation program, the clinic also offered general veterinary services. Hawke herself was studying to become a vet, with Anders offering her the widest range of experience that she could have ever dreamed of. Hawke wanted to specialise in wild animals and the Kirkwall Wildlife Clinic was the best place for her to learn.

It was a slow morning, with only two low-level surgeries booked in. Merrill arrived as it hit nine o'clock, giving Hawke a cheery greeting before heading out the back to prep for the surgeries and check on the in-house patients. With no-one else expected in until ten, Hawke was surprised when the gentle _ding_ of the glass door sounded.

A tall man entered, well dressed in a grey suit with a carefully groomed beard. His dark hair was peppered with grey and his blue eyes grew warm as he met her gaze and smiled.

"Morning, sir, how can I help you?" Hawke greeted him.

"Good morning. Forgive my forwardness but are you Marian Hawke?"

Her smile froze on her face as the question caught her completely off-guard, suspicion rapidly rising within her. The man's accent was foreign but cultured, words carefully chosen. What could he possibly want with her?

"I'm sorry. How is that a relevant question?" she replied shortly.

"Of course, where are my manners? I am Professor Danarius of Minrathous. It is my understanding that last night you had an … unfortunate encounter with a strange man? I have been seeking this person for some time now and would greatly appreciate any information you could share regarding his location."

"What the hell?" Hawke spat. "How do you know about any of that? Who told you?"

Danarius hesitated and at that moment, Hawke heard the staff room door open behind her.

"Professor Danarius?" came Anders' surprised voice. He rushed forward, hand outstretched in eager greeting. "I am Doctor Anders, owner of this humble clinic."

"A pleasure, Doctor Anders. Although I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage, for you seem familiar with my name yet I am not familiar with yours."

"I've read your research into unlocking the untapped potential of the human body," Anders explained with an easy smile on his face. "It was fascinating! Although I have not heard any more about your research in some time. How is it progressing?"

"Slowly, as always," Danarius said and relaxed his posture. Hawke glared between them, her jaw locked and eyes narrowed. "Such things cannot be rushed, especially when dealing with human trials. The potential for experiments to go horribly wrong is quite high, so I am afraid I have many more years of tame research before I begin conducting any live trials."

"Well I look forward to your progress all the same. But what brings you here to my little clinic?" Anders looked genuinely puzzled but Hawke recognised the tilt of his head. Anders must have heard all of their little conversation and decided to swoop in and save Hawke.

This irritated her more than Danarius did. She did not need saving, like some wilting damsel. Anders' habit of jumping to meet her every need was growing more and more infuriating.

"Actually, your lovely receptionist here. I-"

"Vet student," Hawke retorted and stood up, folding her arms. "I'm a post-grad vet student."

"Ah, apologies for my assumption. But as I was saying to Marian, I am in search of a rather dangerous man who has recently fled from Tevinter. After hearing through the police of the incident last night, I took it upon myself to seek Marian out and ask her for any further information."

"Dangerous? How so?" asked Anders and Hawke shot him an irritated glare.

"He has murdered several Tevene soldiers and is believed to have stolen military secrets. I am most relieved that you came through the encounter with your life, Marian. If it truly was this man, I am amazed that he did not strike you dead."

A thousand questions whirled through her mind and she opened her mouth to unleash them, yet Anders cut in over her once more.

"How terrible! Thank you for coming to deal with this, Professor. Although I cannot see what help we could be. Hawke has already given her report to the police so if you wish for further information, you would be best to contact them."

"Of course." Danarius inclined his head respectfully. "I only wondered if anything else had surfaced that you might remember, Marian. Please. If you can think of anything at all, do not hesitate to contact me."

He pulled out a business card and for a split second, Hawke felt the burning desire to fold her arms and reject the card entirely. Yet Anders' gaze was heavy on her so she took the card and nodded bluntly.

"Thank you both for your time." Smiling genially, Danarius turned and exited the clinic.

"Hawke, are you-"

"What the _hell_ was that?" she snapped, spinning on Anders with all her fury blazing unrestrained now. "Talking over me? Treating me like some maiden in need of protection? Back off, Anders!"

To her surprise, her friend only drew himself up straighter.

"Don't you know who that was, Hawke? Not just Professor Danarius, but _Ambassador_ Danarius! He's a political emissary from Tevinter, a direct advisor to the Archon. There was no way I could leave you alone with him, not once I heard him introduce himself."

"You did not seem to have a problem praising his accomplishments," Hawke retorted and Anders raked a hand through his hair in frustration.

"That's because he's dangerous. I had to put him at ease, make him think I sympathise. But I could never condone his research or even the trials he proposes to undertake. They're barbaric!" Anders paused and took a deep breath to calm himself. "But that is irrelevant. What matters is that he came here in the first place."

"I can't believe the police would have just given him that information," Hawke growled, directing her anger away from Anders now.

"Neither can I. Though it would not be difficult for a man like him to get his hands on that information and even if anyone found out what he did, what could they do about it?"

Hawke rolled her eyes.

"You sound like you're talking about diplomatic immunity."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Anders said seriously. "He's an ambassador, remember. He answers to a whole different set of laws."

"Well we don't have to worry about him anymore," Hawke said and waved a hand flippantly. "It's not like I'm ever going to see that random man from last night again and even if I did, I wouldn't be stopping to call some Tevinter ambassador. I'd be dealing with him myself."

"As long as you could do so with no risk to yourself," came the cautioning reply and her eyes rolled again.

"Anders, are you seriously trying to remind me to be careful and take care of myself right now? You threw yourself in front of a bear last week."

"That was completely diff-"

"A bear! A big, angry Hinterlands bear! It's a Maker-sent miracle that it didn't kill you. So don't go acting all righteous and concerned. I didn't need you to step in here and I don't need your protection. I can take care of myself!"

The front door chimed again, interrupting the tense moment between them. Too angry to stay and tend to the customer who had just walked in, Hawke shoved the pre-surgery admittance papers into Anders' hands and stormed out to the staff room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If only he could do that, fade away from existence no matter how tightly anyone tried to hold onto him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Booyah, it's here! This chapter took a fair bit of effort to spit out and even longer for me to go over and edit and fix all the small details that I hated. But I'm fairly happy with it now and super keen for the developing plot to gradually be revealed! :D

_Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night_  
_May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the Autumn moon is bright._  
– The Wolf Man, 1941.

Rain poured down his skin, soaking into his clothes and flattening the escaped tendrils of hair to his face. Every exhale appeared as a puff of steam before him that dissipated in mere seconds. If only he could do that, fade away from existence no matter how tightly anyone tried to hold onto him.

Hands tucked under his armpits in an attempt to ward off the chills that made him shiver, Fenris watched the bakery across the street with a sharp fixation. He had no idea where he was, only that it was a small, isolated town close to the wilderness of forests and farmland. The trees he stood under obscured him from view but he still flinched with every car that drove past.

It was dark early, the days growing shorter as autumn crept closer to winter. This worked in his favour when it came to concealment – but not when the days were still so close to the new moon.

The lights in the bakery finally extinguished and he stood up straighter, nostrils flaring for even the hint of a scent, despite the heavy rain. Minutes later, the lone baker emerged from the alley beside the shop, an umbrella held over her head and her shoulders hunched against the cold as she hurried home.

Fenris forced himself to wait longer. The impulse to run forward and seize his prize right now was overwhelming, causing his body to tremble and one knee to bounce. But he waited, ears sharp and eyes sweeping up and down the street.

No-one was around. Driven inside by the poor weather, the local residents seemed to have deserted their town. Reassuring himself that it was safe, Fenris tugged the hood further over his head, swiped his hair back and crossed the road.

The alley was deserted as he crept along it, inhaling deeply once more. He could smell it now, the tantalising aroma of bread and baked goods, too old to be displayed in the shop front and tossed callously into the trash.

Fenris had no dignity left to protest the thought of plunging into a dumpster. Only pausing to glance around and scent for anyone in the area, he hoisted himself up and quickly began rummaging through the bags. He found the food easily enough and yanked it out. His heart thundered at the size of the bag, mouth salivating at the thought of having a full belly for the first time in weeks.

Yet he could not afford to be careless. Slipping down from the dumpster, Fenris paused to scent and listen before quietly sneaking back across the road and into the thick line of trees. The foliage blocked some of the rain but not all of, and he eventually found himself wedged in the curved bole of a tall tree that had thick shrubs clustered around it.

With water dripping off his nose no matter how often he swiped it away, Fenris ripped open the garbage bag and the pungent aroma of _food_ fill his senses.

He ate furiously, desperately, barely aware of the items that crossed his lips. Much of it was stale, some of it tainted with the bitter tang of mould. Yet to Fenris, it was a feast and he ate until he felt he would burst.

Tightly wrapping the bag around the rest of the food, Fenris held it close to his chest and let his head fall back against the tree. The food was good, a long-denied need finally met, but it was not the solution to all his problems.

He was tired, cold and thirsty. He stank of body odour and filth. He had no money to his name, no identification of any kind. Not that ID was needed, he mused to himself. One look at his face and the right people would come swooping in to snatch him up.

He had been running for months. At first it had been exhilarating yet terrifying, a raw series of experiences and extremes as he plunged headlong from one danger to another. Fenris had felt more alive in those days than in his entire life. Yet now …

Now he was weary. His body was thin, skin sallow across his bones. He ached with every step, mind numb and foggy. He no longer dreamt of freedom and his own free will. Dreams had long since abandoned him. All that remained were base instincts. Eat, drink, sleep. Repeat.

Fenris knew he needed to move faster, knew that Danarius was close behind him. The new moon had proven that. And he had been presented with the perfect opportunity to do just that! Yet like a fool, he had let it slip through his fingers.

It was probably for the best, he reminded himself. The woman would have reported the car theft to the police, who would have tracked the plates. Fenris had no desire to kill innocents but if left with no other choice, he would take it.

He would not let himself be taken back to that place. Never. _Never._

Sleep was elusive and fickle, resting upon him for mere moments before retreating. When the rain finally eased and the sun crested the horizon, Fenris felt more weary than before he had closed his eyes.

Drinking from the puddles that had formed on the garbage bag of food and on the ground around him, Fenris ate a little more before standing and stretching, examining his limbs critically. Several days had passed since the new moon. Perhaps now …

He focused on his instincts, on the scent of crisp earth around him and the freshness of the air. He called to the shift, tried to let it take him. Yet his body was sluggish and sore, instincts subdued.

Sighing, he gave up the attempt and picked up what left of his bag of food. It seemed the form of a man was all that was available to him today. Perhaps if he was healthier … But Fenris knew that was vain hope. He had no chance of improving his condition, not with Danarius hot on his trail. Even if he succeeded in forcing the shift as he was, he would be too weakened to maintain clarity or even shift back.

So he tucked the bag of food under one arm, turned himself to the north, and began to walk.

* * *

Instincts brought nothing but loneliness. Fenris had determined this a couple of months ago, after watching a pack of foxes play in the sunshine. His instincts had yearned so fiercely that it felt like a physical yank on the pit of his stomach. He wanted to run with others, to play and wrestle. To be accepted.

Fenris felt that physical yank again now as he watched a mother shepherding her children. Ranging in ages, the children were bickering with each other and whining to their mother, making constant demands for attention and affection. Exasperated but patient, the mother had a gentle smile on her face as she denied their impulsive requests and let her hands give kind touches to them.

How long had it been since he felt the touch of another? Kindness was too far; Fenris did not think he had ever received a kind touch in his life. But physical contact, that warmth of a living body, the breath from another's lungs. He _ached_ for it, ached so terribly that a whine tried to claw out of his throat as his limbs tensed to approach the mother and her children.

Fenris ripped his eyes away from them, breathing deeply as he warred with those powerful, crippling instincts. So often his instincts protected him, warning him of dangers ahead or severe changes in weather. He often welcomed them and did not question them, instead letting them guide him.

Not now. Not with this, not ever. No matter how he longed for that closeness, that sensation of _pack_ , Fenris knew he could never have it. He was a perverted beast, a monster. An abomination upon the world.

And so he was condemned to loneliness, for all the length of his life.

He waited until the mother and her children had disappeared from view. This new town was larger than the last and he had seen enough tourists to know a foreign face would not garner interest. He planned to enter, to hide in the crowds and gather supplies.

Yet his heart pounded and his palms were slick. Fenris had been running and hiding in the shadows for so long, it felt suicidal to expose himself like this. All it would take was one person to catch a glimpse of his face –

No, most of the children and even some of the adults had their faces painted, Fenris reminded himself. If anyone saw his face, surely they would not think twice about it. Not today, not in the middle of the town fair. There were too many distractions for anyone to take notice of one strange elf with stranger markings on his face.

So, deciding to risk it, Fenris tugged his hood forward and struck out into the town.

The main street had been closed to vehicle traffic and transformed into the brightly coloured fair. Craft stalls, fresh produce stands and classic fair attractions covered the main road, with tourists and locals alike flocking to the stalls with eager expressions and ready smiles.

Breath held nervously and face angled down, Fenris let himself be carried along by the flow of people, not close enough to touch any of them but not far enough away to stand out. The sun was shining and the music pouring from speakers set up along the road was bright and cheery.

It might not be his usual style of hunting ground, but the market was a hunting ground nonetheless. Fenris scouted the area, identified the weaknesses and picked his targets. A purse here, a bottle of water there. A bar of homemade soap. A pie left unattended. He made certain not to hunt too close to each victim, spreading the crimes out across the fair and only taking enough to last him a few days. Anything more would attract too much attention. With his stolen goods hidden under his hoodie, Fenris left the main street and started looking for somewhere secluded to review his loot.

A small park with a scattered handful of benches won his attention. No-one else was in the park, so Fenris sat and ate the pie before tipping out the purses and wallets he had stolen to count the money.

One hundred and thirty seven dollars, sixty two cents. Emotions surged through him but Fenris choked them back down as he scooped the money up and stuffed it into the pockets of his jeans. He had no interest in the purses and wallets; they contained too many incriminating things like ID, bank cards, health insurance cards. He would leave them here for someone to find and never look back.

Draining the water bottle empty but hanging onto it, just in case, Fenris glanced around to ensure there was no-one in sight before standing to leave. The wind stirred as he moved, gusting stronger and bringing hints of another storm with it.

Something slapped into his legs and he flinched, jerking back only to see a newspaper blown against him. Fenris picked it up, contemplating the different ways he could use it, only to freeze as he stared at the front page.

There, in a large image for all to see, was his face. It was a photo he recognised from his days in the Imperium, when Danarius' sway over him had been at its height. He looked blank and emotionless, the empty machine that Danarius had so carefully crafted.

Fenris raked his eyes over the text, wishing that he could comprehend the strange shapes and squiggles as his heart thundered in his chest and his instincts screamed for him to _run, get away!_

There. Danarius. The one word Fenris could recognise after seeing the man sign his name a hundred times over on various documents. His gut clenched and nausea twisted through him, turning the pie sour in his stomach.

How had Fenris ended up on the front page of a newspaper? He had thought Danarius too desperate to keep his little project a secret. But perhaps not? Oh, if only he could read! Fenris cursed as he stared at the newspaper, wishing he could read the article for himself and know what version of events Danarius was spinning for his own benefit.

Yet what the article said did not really matter, Fenris concluded as he spied the phone number written in bold letters at the end of the page. If his photo was published in the newspaper like this, with a phone number most likely urging the public to call in with any information, he was in far greater danger than he had anticipated.

Dropping the newspaper from his shaking fingers, Fenris began to walk. His heart slammed against his ribcage and each breath brought a thousand scents that he sifted and analysed even as his ears strained to hear everything and his eyes roved for threats. Every fibre of his being was tense, thrown into high alert and ready to launch him into a run at the slightest provocation.

Towns were not safe for him anymore, that much was blindingly obvious. The money he had been so elated over only moments ago now seemed like nothing more than useless weight. He had to get out of here, had to get back to the wilderness. Only then could he shift his forms and run, run far away.

Idiot, he had been an idiot to come into this town! It would never be safe enough for him to walk around in the open like this! What if someone had already seen his face? What if they had already called that phone number? What if, right now, Danarius was on his way to take him back with heavy chains and sickly sweet words?

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, gut twisting nervously. Fenris risked a glance over his shoulder, only to see two police officers standing at the bench he had just left, examining the abandoned wallets and purses. One officer raised his head, eyes narrowed suspiciously at Fenris' form.

He ran, panic arcing through him as shouts rose up behind him. Stupid! He should have thrown the wallets in the bin! How careless could he be? He knew better than this!

Fenris darted down an adjacent street, eyes wide as his nostrils drank in every scent they encountered, searching desperately for an escape. He could hear the thudding feet of the police officers chasing him, could hear the breaths in their lungs. He could hear cars on the road ahead, so he ducked down a different street.

He was faster than most people, even in this form. But the police officers were trained for pursuits and knew the town far better than he did. Fenris could still hear them, still tracking his movements, and his heart raced in fear.

The breeze gusted again and he tilted his face into it, drinking in the scents of petrol and diesel, rotting trash, sweat and – there! Trees, leaf litter, squirrels, nugs. Focusing on those scents above all else, Fenris ran faster.

Car tyres screeched and horns blared as he pelted out onto the highway without even a glance to the side. Fool! Only his quick reflexes saved him from flying across the bonnet of an SUV, but he could not dodge the small hatchback that clipped his side.

The force of the impact, glancing though it was, sent him staggering. A normal person would have been thrown from their feet and under the wheels of the oncoming truck. But Fenris kept his feet, ignored the sharp pain that ripped through his side, and ran.

The cars were stopping now, drivers opening their doors to yell and hurl abuse, passengers pulling out their phones with wide mouths to record the incident. Fenris could hear the officers close behind him, radioing for backup. He ducked his head, leapt over the barrier on the edge of the road, and raced away into the trees beyond.

What had he been thinking? Those videos would be everywhere in a couple of hours! Danarius would know it was him, would be plotting his course on a map and predicting his next movements.

Danarius had all the advantages here. He was in league with the local authorities, he had the influence of the Imperium behind him. He could look at maps and know the town names, know where Fenris was going. Fenris could not even read. How could he plan his next move, his next way to escape and evade?

And now, with the police on his heels like this, did he really have a chance at escape?

He had to try. Fenris would not let himself be captured, he would rather die! So he zigzagged through the trees, ears straining to listen for any sound of pursuit. Finally, when he felt he was far enough away, he stopped running.

The trees were silent around him, all the wildlife startled by his mad dash. Fenris did not pay any heed to that, simply stripping out of his clothes as he fought to calm his breathing.

He was raw and vulnerable but he had no other choice. Closing his eyes and focusing on his instincts, Fenris forced the shift over himself.

It was agony, joints popping and bones cracking as the white lines all along his body ignited with a blue light. A scream tore from his throat and he fell to all fours, breaths ragged and harsh in his throat. His side burned when the car had clipped him but he knew it was temporary. He would heal quickly enough, just like the pain from the shift would subside.

His vision narrowed and blurred, then swam back to clarity. The world was painted in a different set of hues, every detail clearer than before. His lungs expanded with a deep breath, bringing a flood of scents far richer and crisper than his elven nose could comprehend.

The fears and concerns of only moments ago felt like forgotten memories that he did not want to grasp hold of. Fenris wanted to throw his head back and howl, he wanted to hunt and taste flesh –

A distant _snap_ of branch underfoot had his head whipping around, eyes narrowed as he stared into the distance and bared his teeth. Those fears and concerns fought their way back into his mind and, distantly, he knew who it was. Police. Dangerous. A threat.

Instincts told him to kill, to eliminate the danger. He took half a step, poised to throw himself into battle. Yet caution and logic prevailed, reminding him how weak and malnourished he was. His side still throbbed. His body was weary. And he was alone. There were two police officers, a pack of their own.

He was a lone wolf. Vulnerable.

Face twisting into a snarl, Fenris reluctantly shifted his weight back. Next time, for sure. Next time he would be ready and he would kill. Comforting his instincts with that thought, he turned away from the scents of civilisation and bounded away through the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are my fuel <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She didn't notice the change in behaviour until the fourth carnivore paddock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never intended there to be a four month break between updates but life is funny like that. But in good news! I am participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this month and what is the focus of my writings, you ask? This fic is!! So if you're interested you can check out my page [HERE](https://campnanowrimo.org/campers/inyriljace/novels/ghost-wolf-493692/stats) to stay up to date on my word count goal etc. And if you are also writing for Camp NaNo this month, let me know because I'd love to follow your progress too! :D

"I'm sorry, Hawke. I wish I had more positive news for you. But there's been no sightings since he escaped police capture, and that was over a week ago."

"Really, it's fine. The less I know about him, the better," Hawke muttered in reply as her mind brought the image of the well-tailored ambassador to the forefront. If she knew nothing about this fugitive, she would have no reason to ever interact with Danarius again.

"All the same, I wish I could offer you some closure," Aveline continued as she walked by Hawke's side. "I'm sure your mother would sleep better at night knowing the criminal had been apprehended."

Hawke snorted and rolled her eyes. Her mother had always been overreactive and this latest trauma had been no exception. She received no less than half a dozen texts from her mother – daily – reminding her to be careful, to lock her car doors, and to leave her GPS switched on so she could be found if need be.

All Hawke really needed was for one of her siblings to screw up so her mother's focus would switch to them.

"No other exciting jobs going on at the moment, then?" Hawke asked, deciding it was time for a new topic. Aveline shrugged, her mouth twisting into a crooked line of distaste.

"Not really, other than I've been rostered on the full moon night shift."

"Ooh, you love those," Hawke replied sarcastically and threw in a grin. Aveline scoffed and shook her head.

"I still don't understand why everyone goes so crazy on full moons! It's just a stupid excuse for people to take risks and hurt others more than they would under other circumstances."

"Oh come on, Aveline, everyone knows that full moons are magical! And who knows? Maybe you'll encounter a vampire or a fairy this time around, and they will convince your cynical heart of the magic once and for all."

"There was a vampire last full moon shift that I worked," Aveline said. "He was arrested for assaulting women by biting their necks and claiming he needed their pure blood in order to fuel his vitality. Disgusting bastard. If I encounter another one like him, the last thing I'll be doing is letting him convince me about any magic!"

Hawke laughed, linking her arm with Aveline's. It had been so long since they just hung out like this, the two of them. They used to do it all the time as teenagers. Attending the same school and being best friends, Hawke had been a whirlwind of terror and Aveline the reluctant partner who got dragged into all her messes. Yet Aveline had always managed to get them out of the messes without too much damage. Hmm, perhaps not much had changed in that regard.

"What about you? You're not working at the clinic this full moon, are you?" Aveline asked and Hawke shook her head.

"Nah, it's Carver and Bethany's birthday. I'll be spoiling them all day then enduring another of Mum's over the top dinners."

"They're not that bad," Aveline protested.

"She hired full catering staff to wait on us last time!"

"Well, she does come from old money."

"Yeah, but Dad didn't. I can't even imagine him sitting through anything like that and everyone always says I take after him …" She trailed off, surprised by the sudden wash of melancholy that came over her. Aveline squeezed her arm, sensing Hawke's drop in mood.

"I can't believe the twins are going to be eighteen already. It feels like just yesterday we were ditching them to go run through Willard Collins' fields."

Hawke let out a startled laugh at the memory. Willard Collins had been a wheat farmer back in Lothering. Being a small country town with nothing to entertain two thirteen year old girls, they had found their own entertainment – namely, creating crop circles in Willard Collins' fields.

"You're telling me," Hawke replied. "At least you don't have to live with them! Carver has been insufferable, constantly talking about plans to join the army."

"He won't actually, will he?" Aveline asked in concern and Hawke shrugged.

"Mum's forbidden him from doing it but you know how stubborn he is. I'm just trying to think of something else to interest him in before he finishes high school and manages to enlist."

This line of conversation was hardly better than thinking about her father and Hawke sighed as the melancholy swept back over her. A sudden sharp tug on her arm brought her attention back to Aveline, who was abruptly changing direction.

"Coffee. We need coffee. Let's try this place, I've never been."

As Aveline continued to ramble on, Hawke smiled and let herself get swept along by the chatter of coffee beans and hazelnut syrup versus vanilla. There was no point in worrying about her brother right now; he was still young and there was time to sort out his problems. She should just focus on the present, enjoy the moment and forget about issues like Carver and the carjacking.

* * *

Laptop open before her and study notes sprawled haphazardly across the desk, Hawke typed steadily on the keyboard, writing line after line into the word document. Her bed was unmade and heavily rumpled behind her. Clothes were strewn across the floor with more than one pair of shoes kicked to random corners. Posters and random photos decorated the walls at inconsistent angles.

All in all, her bedroom was the very definition of chaos and was certain to give Bethany a headache at the mere thought of entering such disorder.

Yet despite the anarchy that was a fundamental part of her life, the word document Hawke was working on was strictly neat and orderly. Indeed, it was too important for her to allow it to become messy. This research paper – more of a thesis, if she was being honest – would make up much of her marks for this semester. Everything had to be perfect.

"Marian! Goodness, girl! You need to do something about this mess."

"Hello, Mother, welcome to my humble palace, and thank you for interrupting me in the middle of my flow," Hawke replied in a monotone voice, never tearing her eyes off the screen of her laptop. Leandra huffed from the doorway, one hand thrown on her hip.

"Your flow will have to wait, darling. It's time for dinner and you really should be downstairs already. Have you forgotten? It's the twins' birthday!"

"Ugh!" Hawke leant back from her laptop, hands thrusting restlessly through her hair, and tossed her mother a frustrated glare. "I'm trying to work on my paper, Mum. Surely that's a little more important than starting dinner right on seven."

"Marian, your brother and sister are eighteen today. That is an important milestone! You should be showing the proper respect, just as we showed you."

"It's just a family birthday dinner!" Hawke protested. "You haven't even invited anyone else over!"

"Don't play ignorant, you know their proper party with their friends will be next weekend. Now enough complaining and more movement. Up! And change into something more formal."

Leandra's critical gaze ran over Hawke's track pants and oversized flannel shirt in clear distaste before she turned and left the room to hurry back downstairs. Sighing, Hawke reluctantly stripped out of her clothes and pulled on a dress that she knew her mother would find acceptable. A quick touch-up of her hair and a hunt for a pair of heels, and she was good to go.

The dining room looked absolutely lavish, decked out in gold and ivory decorations. The large table was fully laid but with only four place settings, making everything look out of balance. Hawke took her usual place – to the right of the head of the table – smiling at Bethany and Carver across from her. Leandra entered a moment later to take her seat at the head of the table, nodding in approval at Hawke's appearance.

The caterers followed in Leandra's footsteps and then the formal dinner was underway. Classical music played softly from the stereo in the background and even though she had sat through dozens of dinners like this, Hawke still found the whole affair completely ridiculous.

"Bethany, have you shortlisted the universities you'd like to apply for?" Leandra asked as the dinner wore on, the first of the desserts being brought out.

"Definitely Kirkwall University," Bethany replied easily. "It'd be great to stay close to home. Although I've heard good things about Skyhold College, so I'm looking into that. But my first choice is still the University of Orlais."

Bethany looked pensive and nervous at the mere mention of her first choice. Hawke resisted the urge to snort in disbelief. Bethany was an intelligent genius, excelling at anything she put her mind to. If she wanted to study at Orlais, she would.

"And Carver? What are your thoughts for university?"

Hawke shoved some of the delicate cheesecake into her mouth and flicked her eyes from her mother to her brother. Why her mum chose to bring this up now, she had no idea. They all knew Carver's plans.

"I don't have any," Carver said bluntly, his face set in that stubborn frown that he seemed to love. "I've already told you, I'm joining the army after school."

"Carver, be reasonable," replied Leandra. "Being a soldier is a dangerous profession. Who knows what could happen to you? I have already forbidden such an endeavour and I should not have to remind you of that."

"Mum, do you really think that matters?"

Everyone at the table froze and Hawke's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Leandra's jaw dropped open but Carver remained unmoved.

"I'm eighteen now. I don't even have to finish school, I could just leave and enlist on Monday! I don't need your permission."

"How dare-"

"You're better off finishing school before you enlist," Hawke blurted out, desperate to cut off her mother before she made things any worse. Carver turned his sour glare to her and Hawke almost wished she hadn't said anything.

"Oh? You'd know, would you?" he sneered.

"I mean, if you've graduated high school, you're more likely to be able to enlist as an officer rather than just a soldier! More responsibility, better pay – you'd be good at that, Carver."

The compliment stunned him into silence, eyes widening slightly before they narrowed again, as though hunting for the insult that had to be hidden in there somewhere.

"Marian, don't encourage him!" Leandra cried in horror.

"I'm just saying, Mum! His options are better if he finishes high school first." Hawke tried to telepathically communicate her intentions to her mother – if Carver stayed in school, they would have more time as a family to convince him to pursue something else. From Leandra's scandalised expression, telepathy had failed.

"So, Marian! How's your paper coming along?" Bethany asked in a voice that was far too bright. Yet it served its purpose, derailing the conversation and switching the attention back to the eldest child.

"Really well. I've got all the data I need and now I'm just compiling it. Hopefully a few more days of work and it'll be ready for editing."

"Which wolf pack were you studying, again?"

"I've been overviewing all of them but focusing on the Dumat pack."

"Oh, that's the largest one, right? Twenty wolves? Led by the big grey male?"

Hawke nodded and launched into an in-depth explanation of each wolf and their traits. She knew that Bethany already knew all of this, she didn't really need to recount it all. Yet Bethany was strategic and diplomatic. The talk of wolves was more to give their mother and Carver time to cool their tempers.

Not that Hawke was complaining. She loved talking about the wolves every chance she got.

The final course was cleared from the table at last and Hawke's words dwindled into silence. Outside some thunder rumbled and Hawke thought of Aveline working the night shift at the police station. She hoped the impending storm kept people off the streets, rather than outside causing more trouble.

"Oh, I can hardly believe that my babies are eighteen already," Leandra spoke after a moment of silence. "So beautiful, so strong. Look at you both, so capable and ready to take on the world. If only … if only your father was here to see you …"

Emotions choked off her words and Leandra turned aside, covering her mouth with delicate fingers as tears welled in her eyes. Hawke stood and went to her mother's side, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Come on, Mum. Why don't we go to the sitting room and have a glass of brandy to finish off the evening?" Hawke hated drinking with her mother, but when Leandra fell into one of these moods, it was best not to leave her alone.

"Oh, I'm alright," Leandra said bravely and squared her shoulders, swallowing down her raw emotions. "It's just a lot for a mother to take in. I'm so proud of you both, Carver and Bethany. And I know your father would be, too."

Leandra cleared her throat, placed her napkin on her plate and stood up.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I should go see to the caterers' payment."

Hawke sighed as the formal dinner came to a disjointed end. She loved her family, she truly did. But a part of her couldn't wait until she was working a full time job and had enough money to move out of home, to a place where she only had her own problems to worry about and not everyone else's.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and clear, all traces of the storm from the night before washed away. Hawke parked in the staff area at the clinic and went through the usual motions of opening up. There was no noise from the back rooms and she knew this meant Anders was either passed out in his shoebox office or he'd actually gone home for once.

Leaving the reception computer to boot up, Hawke swiped through the reinforced door, loaded up the buggy and began to feed the animals.

The air was crisp in her lungs, a beautiful example of a perfect autumn day. The colours of the trees and grass seemed brighter since the rain, more enhanced. The herbivores were calm and happy to see her, calling out hungrily as she arrived to throw the food in.

She didn't notice the change in behaviour until the fourth carnivore paddock.

The coyotes paced the fence line, tails low with mouths open and panting. They avoided meeting her gaze and showed no interest in the meat that she tossed in for them. Hawke frowned, gut twisting in concern. Normally the coyotes would be pouncing on the meat and squabbling for the best piece.

Only then, while thinking about it, did she realise the animals had been progressively more distressed as she worked her way towards the wolves.

Heart thudding in her chest, Hawke left the coyotes and raced towards the next enclosure. Every now and then, they had trouble with extremist animal groups; sometimes poachers that were desperate to bag their prize, or people that strongly felt no animals should ever be caged – not even in the name of conservation.

There were ravens in the sky and trees as she approached the first wolf pack. Dread rose in her and Hawke pulled her phone out of her pocket, hastily dialling Anders' number as she stopped the buggy and ran to the fence.

Hawke staggered to a halt, eyes wide in horror and disbelief. Her hand was half-way to her ear with the phone, entirely forgotten as she drank in the carnage before her. This was not the work of poachers or extremists.

Wolf bodies lay scattered across the damp earth. Limbs were twisted at unnatural angles. Pelts were torn open, exposing bone and innards. The mutilation was intense and haphazard, seeming to have no clear purpose other than destruction.

How could this happen? The Andoral pack was small but peaceful; they had always been peaceful! Hawke had written an entire chapter about them in her thesis, about their gentle and welcoming natures, about how they were a prime choice for integration with foreign wolves because of their personalities.

There would be no integration now. Despite the nausea clawing its way up the back of her throat and the trembling of her knees, Hawke forced herself to really look at the bodies, search the faces. Five wolves. The Andoral pack had five wolves in its number. She had to see, had to know if they were all here or if perhaps one of them had committed this terrible slaughter.

The extensive damage made it seem like there were more than just five bodies and her stomach lurched, forcing her to clamp her spare hand over her mouth.

Distantly, she heard the _click_ of a phone call connecting, followed by a groggy male voice.

_"Hawke? What is it?"_

Her eyes trailed across the murder scene, towards the line of trees further back. Her entire body froze and her breath caught in her lungs as she stared, barely able to comprehend.

_"Hawke? Are you there? Are you alright?"_

"Anders …"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris snarled, recoiling from the two men that approached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up shorter than I wanted, so apologies for that. But hey, at least I know I'll be updating again soon enough! 
> 
> Camp NaNoWriMo is going fantastically so far and I'm several days ahead of my daily goal, woohoo! Stay tuned for more ;)

_It's not the full moon_  
_it's the people_  
_who_  
_turn us into_  
_monsters_  
\- we're human, Poetry.

It was increasingly difficult to hold his human form in the lead up to the full moon. It was like this every month, his body fighting against him as the moon swelled until it was complete and bold in all its glory and his will was gone, torn from his fingers by a form that was wild and uncontrollable.

Fenris fought the pull of the moon now, shivering in his nakedness and knowing his resistance was useless. It would be night soon and he would give himself over to the moon one way or another. Why not just let go now?

No. He wanted to do it on his terms, not the whims of his body. Fenris knew he could master this, he was sure of it! And once he had control over his erratic shifting, he would be one step closer to his freedom.

Forcing himself to his feet, Fenris paced through the forest. His senses were on fire, almost as strong right now as they would be in wolf form. He knew where a thin stream meandered through the trees and where the nugs burrowed underground. He could smell the squirrels in the trees above and the deer a mile away.

He found himself on the trail of the deer without actively making a decision. Part of him wanted to growl and fight back in frustration but rationally he knew there was no point. His instincts were too powerful this close to the full moon. And as soon as he was in his wolf form, he would be hunting deer over any other animal.

Fenris found the herd in a thicket ahead of him. He hung back, resisting the urge to plunge straight in and seize one. His entire body was twitching now, not merely trembling from the cold. It was the pull of the moon, setting his nerves alight and slowly – painfully – drawing the wolf from him.

Stubborn to a fault, Fenris waited until sunset before releasing his control.

As soon as he let go, the wolf burst through with ease. He did not scream or cry out in pain this time, simply falling to all fours covered in his skin and lifting his head covered in fur. Bright green eyes glowed out at the world around him, drinking it in.

He was warm now, warm and safer in his fur than without it. Why had he ever resisted the change? He should stay this way forever, a wild beast who answered to no-one.

The breeze stirred towards him and he cast his muzzle into the air, scenting deeply. He could smell the myriad of deer in the herd ahead of him. He could smell the deep musk of the stags and the softer tones of the does. There was a rotting scent of an injured one and then his feet were moving, trotting quietly across the leaf litter as he advanced on his prey.

Overhead and barely noticed by him, dark clouds began to roll in and the temperature dropped further. Unsettled by the change in weather, the herd began to move on.

Fenris kept pace with them, close enough that his glowing eyes could see them but far enough away that they would not see him unless they suspected a threat haunted their steps. He was patient despite the tight aching in his belly. There was no rush; he had the whole night ahead of him.

Rain started to fall, just lightly, masking the sound of his movements. Fenris welcomed the rain as the deer travelled out of the thick heart of the forest and into more open stretches of terrain. He moved faster, ears pricked with intent and eyes constantly watching, assessing.

The deer were strung out in a line now, moving with each other but happy to pick at grass and foliage along the way. His target had fallen to the rear, slowed by injury. The herd slowed to a halt, meandering through the open glade with no concerns of being hunted.

Quick steps brought him closer, through thick grass and behind a fallen tree log. Fenris felt his muscles bunching, every fibre of his being intent on the prey before him. The deer froze, severals heads lifting with flared nostrils scenting the air.

Fenris lunged, bounding across the open space between himself and his target with fierce speed. The deer flinched, eyes wide in terror as they moved to flee. But they were too late; Fenris had crept too close in the rain. He launched off his haunches, slamming into the side of his target as his teeth snapped shut over –

_Thwack._

Agony burst through his ribs and Fenris fell, twisting and writhing on the forest floor. Bellowing in panic, his target fled to catch up with the fleeing herd. Instincts screamed for him to run, to give chase and strike again.

But he could not. Fenris struggled on the ground, fighting to get his feet underneath him. Yet his limbs refused to cooperate. Molten fire burned through his side and something hot and wet dripped down his fur. As the full moon pulled on his instincts, he thrashed and snarled in pain, terrified by his failing body.

"Over here!"

"Aw crap, a wolf? They're protected in the Free Marches."

Fenris snarled, recoiling from the two men that approached. They stank of _human_ ; how had he not scented them before this? And what were they carrying in their hands? Weapons, his instincts whispered. They were a threat. They had hurt him once and now they would hurt him more.

He lunged, teeth snapping in clear warning. The men jerked back but did not flee. Fenris snarled louder, spittle dripping from his bared lips and hackles standing on end. What else did he have to do to make them leave? And why would his back legs not respond?

"It's still alive, Darren."

"I know."

"But what do we do with it?"

The bigger man was silent, a heavy frown on his face. The smaller man looked terrified, eyes whipping from Fenris to his companion. Fenris fixed his gaze on the smaller man and lunged again, front paws tearing at the earth. If he could scare one into running, surely the other would follow.

"We wait," the bigger man finally said. "It's losing a lot of blood, won't be long before it bleeds out."

"Are you crazy? This is illegal! Not to mention, it's a white wolf! How many of those have you seen around here? Ever?"

"What else can we do?" retorted the bigger man. "It's aggressive and we're in the middle of the forest! Literally what other choice do we have right now?"

The smaller man ran his hands through his hair, absently knocking his hat from his head but he didn't notice. Fenris snarled as the man paced, instincts a mess inside him. Suddenly the man halted, grim determination on his face.

"That wildlife clinic, it's not far from here. They take wildlife admissions twenty four hours a day."

The bigger man scoffed.

"You can't be serious."

"What other choice do we have? I'm not leaving it here to die like this!"

"Ugh, fine! But you're taking the head, not me."

There was _intent_ in their scents now and the men slowly began to move towards him. Fenris growled savagely, hating how his form trembled. His front legs were half numb and clumsy now. But the men were advancing on him. They wanted to capture him, to hurt him! Fenris had to fight them off! If he didn't, they would be the death of him!

"Easy boy, it's alright. It's okay."

He lunged but his legs buckled, dropping his chin into the mud that he had churned around himself. Panic seared through him, blotting out the pain and Fenris screamed, the sound so feral and broken that the men jumped back.

"Just grab him."

"Have you got something to muzzle it? I'm not getting bitten!"

Fenris tried to fight them off, tried to buck and thrash beneath their hands. But his body was fading and the men were strong. They held him down, bound his jaws shut and tied his legs together. Breaths shuddering in his chest and skin crawling in revulsion where they touched him, Fenris could do nothing as they lifted him and began to carry him away.

* * *

_Pain._

_Bright lights._

_A smell, vaguely familiar …_

_Antiseptic._

He surged up, snarling and fighting desperately to get free. Multiples hands gripped him and voices shouted.

"Get that anaesthetic back on him! How is he even awake right now?"

"He's already had an abnormally high dosage-"

"Shut up and do it! Now, before he rips that wound open any further!"

He had to get away, had to break free. He had sworn he would never come back here! He would never submit again!

But there were too many hands and the darkness still lurked at the edges of his vision. Fenris felt himself slipping away, dragged down against his will.

* * *

It was dark and storming when Fenris awoke. Rain had flattened his fur to his skin and the ground beneath him was sodden. His mouth was thick, his body heavy. But he forgot all of that when the next flash of lightning illuminated the world around him.

Five wolves stood around him, watching, waiting. Terror burning through him, Fenris surged to his feet. The closest wolf growled and he snapped.

Fenris threw himself against the wolves, eyes blazing in manic fury as he bit and tore and slashed his way through them all. Instincts guided him, warning him of the incoming blows and the rear attacks.

The wolves had the advantage. There were five of them – a pack – and they knew the terrain. They could rely on each other; they were stronger together. Fenris was alone, vulnerable and mind still foggy. But he knew he could not stop, knew he could not lose.

Danarius had pitted him against wolves too many times for him to be ignorant of the outcome if he lost.

Blood was hot in his mouth, sticky on his fur. Fenris felt himself slipping into familiar routines and movements as the rage of battle consumed him. He knew this. He hated it – but there was a sense of security in it all the same. He knew he could win. He had won before.

Yelps and snarls filled his ears, growls reverberating all around them. Fenris gave himself over to his instincts, his ferocity released in its entirety. The wolves fell beneath his jaws, helpless before him.

He had no idea how much time had passed, only that the last wolf had fallen. Lightning flashed again, chased by thunder, and Fenris began to move. He could not stay here out in the open. He had to seek shelter, find a way to escape. Danarius would be nearby, he was sure. If he did not leave, Danarius would come for him. Would subdue him. Would torment him even as he petted him. Would force him to submit.

Teeth bared against the night air, Fenris ignored the aches and pains all over his body from the battle and kept going. He could still sense the full moon calling to him, setting his blood alight, but there was no time to revel in its beauty or answer its call.

One way or another, Fenris had to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life. Also, I now have a [Ko-Fi!](https://ko-fi.com/thewritingjenny)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So fixated on the white wolf, Hawke saw its ear twitch as Anders cocked his rifle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys. This fic is now my highest kudos-ed fic! I just wanna say thanks for supporting me this far and encouraging me, it really means a lot!
> 
> I've tried to be accurate to animal welfare practices in this chapter as best I can. I've never worked with wolves myself but I am a horse trainer and riding instructor who currently works on a holiday-stay farm. So hopefully I'm not doing animal welfare a disservice.

_We all are living in a dream_  
_But life ain't what it seems_  
_Oh everything's a mess_  
\- Dream, Imagine Dragons.

Hawke sat on the hood of the buggy, her head buried in her hands. A few errant tears slipped free but she gave no sign that she felt them or was even aware of them.

"I'm sorry, Hawke. I know how much you cared about them," Anders was saying in a soft, caring voice. A pair of bloodied latex gloves dangled from his fingers. He stood awkwardly opposite her, the slaughtered Andoral pack behind them.

"I don't understand," Hawke said, her voice small and pained. "How could this happen?"

"I … think I have an answer for that, actually," Anders said in a reluctant tone and Hawke lifted her head from her hands. "There was a message left on my phone from Grace last night. She said an injured wolf had been admitted and she'd performed surgery on it."

"An injured wolf couldn't do that, Anders!" Hawke snapped and gestured harshly to the carnage behind the fence. Anders winced and shrugged.

"I don't know what else to tell you. But I've already contacted Grace telling her she needs to come in now. We'll get to the bottom of this, Hawke. I promise you."

Hawke struggled not to stare at the wolf carcasses while they waited for Grace to arrive. Instead she lifted her eyes towards the tree line, searching for the large white wolf she had seen before.

There should not be any other wolves in this enclosure. The fences were eight feet tall and buried into the earth. There was no way anything could get in or out. Not to mention the security cameras set up around the reserve. Whatever had happened, this white wolf had to have been placed in this enclosure. It could not have been an accident.

Which was why Hawke could not comprehend it.

Grace arrived before long, her eyes widening in horror as she took in the scene.

"What the hell …"

Grace had been working for Anders for almost a year now. Transferring from a Starkhaven vet clinic, she had been excited by the opportunity of working with larger animals. She was a fully qualified vet and often took the night shifts, preferring them to day shifts. Hawke had rarely interacted with her but something about the older woman always rubbed her the wrong way. Anger burned inside Hawke now. If Grace had somehow caused this …

"Are any of the pack-"

"I've already checked. They're all dead," Anders said, putting out a hand to stop Grace from rushing to the gate. Hawke's eyes dropped to the bloody gloves in Anders' grasp and her heart squeezed painfully.

"Then how did this happen?" Grace asked and Anders shot Hawke a glance before replying.

"There's another wolf in the enclosure. Hawke saw it when she came to do the feedings but it had disappeared into the trees by the time I got here. A large white wolf." He took a breath, eyes heavy on Grace. "You texted me to say a wolf had come in last night. Tell me this is some kind of coincidence. Tell me you didn't put an injured wolf in with one of our packs."

Grace shifted her weight, arms folding across her chest. Hawke clenched her jaw, recognising the body language for what it was.

"This is impossible, there's no way a wolf could have killed a whole pack on its own!"

"Grace," Anders said in a low, firm voice. "Tell me what happened."

She glanced between them, guilt simmering below the surface in her eyes, before she threw her arms up in resignation.

"It was brought in around seven or eight. Two men had been hunting deer but got the wolf instead when it jumped in front of a crossbow bolt. We did surgery to remove the bolt but … I've never seen anything like it, Anders. The wolf woke up on the operating table! It tried to get up, tried to attack us. We ended up giving it five times the amount of anaesthetic that we would have given a normal wolf, and it barely kept it under."

Hawke scoffed and shook her head; she could not help it, not even caring when Grace cast a scathing glare at her. Did Grace honestly expect them to believe such a ridiculous story?

"What happened next?" Anders asked.

"The bolt had shattered inside the wolf, there were pieces everywhere. I removed everything I could and stitched it up. That's all."

"That's all? Then how did that wolf end up in with the Andoral pack? It should have been in a recovery cage, not left out in a storm!"

"It was savage!" Grace protested. "It scratched Alain quite badly and almost took off Ella's hand! I got scratched, myself. Besides, it didn't need to stay in recovery."

"What are you talking about?"

"We put it in a recovery cage at first and I checked on it after fixing up Alain's scratches. Anders, it had already healed itself. The skin was closed over and the stitches had fallen out. In the space of half an hour! That's when I decided that I didn't want something that dangerous around the staff. So I drugged it again and took it out here."

"Are you crazy? You knowingly put a savage wolf in with a gentle pack?" Hawke was on her feet now, fists balled at her sides.

"I didn't know the pack was in here! I thought they'd been rotated out to the spelling enclosure! Honestly, I never would have put it in here if I knew the Andoral pack was still in here."

"What?" Rage swelled through Hawke. "They weren't due to be rotated out to the spelling enclosure for another _week!_ How do you get something like that wrong?"

"I didn't-"

"You cost them their _lives!_ "

"Hawke, enough," Anders ordered firmly. "Grace, we are going to talk more about this later. For now, you are going to take the buggy and finish feeding up the animals. Hawke and I will take care of this."

Scowling with guilt still thick in her eyes, Grace stormed off and drove the buggy away. Hawke only realised her chest was heaving furiously when Anders rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay to do this? You don't have to. You can go back to the clinic and rest."

"No, I need to do this," Hawke insisted and squared her shoulders. She scoured her eyes over the enclosure. "But … how are we going to do it?"

"Carefully. I don't quite believe everything Grace said but I'll accept that this wolf is highly volatile. Which means I don't want you going in that enclosure, Hawke. No, I'm serious. It's too dangerous. I'll go in and retrieve the bodies. You'll keep watch for me to make sure that wolf doesn't come back. And then we'll take care of the bodies together. Alright?"

"But what about this wolf? You don't honestly believe it healed itself in half an hour, do you?"

"Of course not," Anders replied as he pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, the bloodied pair dropped on the ground next to his ute. "But we can deal with that wolf later. We'll tend to the Andoral pack first. Then I'll come back and try to find it."

Anders reached into the back of his ute and pulled out a roll of plastic sheeting. Hawke's stomach lurched but she still helped him pull out a few more rolls and carry them to the gate of the enclosure. Anders paused to open the padlock then glance around the enclosure, searching for any sign of the white wolf.

Nothing. He entered with one roll of plastic sheeting and approached the first wolf carcass. Hawke was torn between watching the gory job and keeping an eye out for the white wolf. Her eyes jumped back and forth, feet shifting restlessly on the wet grass.

A shiver slid down her spine and she raked her gaze across the line of trees, lingering on the place she had seen the white wolf meld back into obscurity. Hawke could not see anything now, not even a flicker of white. Yet she felt certain the wolf was there, observing them and evaluating them.

Her fists clenched anxiously.

Anders worked steadily and within an hour, all the pieces of the wolf bodies had been gathered onto the plastic sheeting. Hawke felt her stomach churn as, once out of the enclosure, she helped Anders lift the sheets into the back of his ute. The stench of death was overwhelming and she wanted to gag but suppressed the urge.

They drove back to the clinic. No words passed between them and Hawke was grateful for that; she wasn't sure she would have been able to keep her composure if Anders prodded her any further right now.

The dead wolves were carefully unloaded and placed in the second cool room, just beside the food prep kitchen. It was a cool room specifically reserved for storing the dead bodies of animals, whether pets or wild animals from the reserve. Hawke felt a hard lump rise in her throat as she stared at the mutilated wolf corpses.

This never should have happened to them.

"Hawke, I think you should go home," Anders said gently after they had shut the cool room behind them. "I'll call Merrill in to cover your shift. Take as long as you need."

For once, she was tempted to accept. But Hawke squared her shoulders and drew herself upright.

"You're going out to look for that white wolf, right?"

"Hawke-"

"I'm coming with you, Anders. If that wolf is as dangerous as Grace says, then you shouldn't be searching for it on your own. You should have someone with you. Fair enough that you didn't let me in before because we didn't have the guns. But you know I have a gun licence and I'm a damn good shot. Not to mention that I've used these rifles dozens of times with you before. Let me come. I can help you with this."

Anders sighed and rubbed tiredly at his forehead.

"I don't know why I let you talk me into things like this."

* * *

Water droplets from a low-hanging branch ran down the back of Hawke's neck. She ignored it and ducked under another branch, keeping a close eye on Anders who walked a couple of metres to her left. This deep in the Andoral pack enclosure, they did not want to get separated.

The enclosure was not massive by any stretch of the imagination; out of all the wolf pack enclosures, it was the smallest at two and a half acres. Yet it was still large enough for a wolf to become invisible amongst the tall trees.

Rifle loaded with tranquilisers and held at the ready, Hawke followed the trail of paw prints they had found a short while ago. Larger than the prints of the Andoral pack, Anders had accepted this as proof of the white wolf and instantly began tracking.

Surely it couldn't take too much longer. Two and a half acres was nothing compared to the territory a wolf would have in the wild. Surely they would find it soon.

Anders froze, thrusting out a hand for Hawke to stop. She went still, heart racing as her ears strained and she peered through the trees, wondering what he had seen. Anders slowly gestured for her to step towards him and Hawke crept over, until she could see behind a large tree, to the form on the ground behind it.

The wolf was sleeping, body splayed across the earth in a manner that did not look strictly comfortable, even by wolf standards. Unconscious, then? Yet she could not see any wounds on it nor any blood on fur or staining the ground. She glanced at Anders, wondering what the next step would be.

"Keep close to me," Anders whispered and lifted his rifle. Hawke nodded and lifted her own, ready to assist if need be.

So fixated on the white wolf, Hawke saw its ear twitch as Anders cocked his rifle.

They both froze, unable to look away as the wolf lifted its large head, swinging around to gaze straight at them without any hesitation. Hawke tensed, waiting for the hackles and the retreat, maybe even a few growls. Wild wolves were shy by nature and preferred to stay well away from humans.

Shock resonated through her as the wolf scrambled to its feet, head lowered and hackles standing on end as it bared its teeth and _snarled_.

The white wolf was massive, standing well above the height of even their tallest wolves. And it was displaying the most abnormal behaviour Hawke had ever seen from a wolf in this kind of situation, splaying its front feet and pinning its ears as – beyond belief – it took an aggressive step forward.

"Anders, what-"

"Shh," he hissed, gaze intent on the wolf. Both of them dead still and staring at the wolf, they waited. Hawke's heart raced in her chest, mind screaming in confusion as the creature before her destroyed all her conceptions of wolf behaviour. It shouldn't be doing this, it should be running away! Putting as much distance between itself and them as possible!

Teeth still on full display, the white wolf gave a small lunge, claws tearing at the earth.

"Hawke. Very slowly, I want you to take a step back. Just one," Anders said in an even, controlled voice. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Hawke carefully slid her feet backwards.

The wolf swung its head towards her, snarls easing for a moment, before Anders copied the action. The wolf glared at him again, a fresh snarl rising loud and violent.

"Keep moving, steadily. Don't look away but don't make eye contact. And whatever you do, don't turn your back."

Her hands were trembling. It was a strange thing to realise at this time but Hawke suddenly found it the most fascinating development in the world. Pulling a ragged breath into her lungs again, she tried to calm her mind as she obeyed Anders.

Together, the two of them slowly crept backwards out of the enclosure.

As soon as they got far enough away, the wolf would stop snarling. It would watch them but it would maintain distance. It would be less of a threat. Hawke was sure of it and she watched the wild creature, waiting for the aggressive body language to lessen.

Shocking her once again, the wolf began to stalk them.

Its lips were still curled back but the savage snarls had fallen silent. Anders froze when the wolf first began its steady trot after them, gripping Hawke's sleeve protectively. The wolf came to a stop only to snarl and go into a challenging stance again.

Why was it doing this?

It seemed to take forever to get back to the gate. Hawke had never been afraid of the wolves in the reserve, not even when she knew how deadly they could become if they so desired. But they were animals that responded to body language and stimulus. If you understood those things you could understand the wolves and stay safe.

Hawke had never seen a wolf respond like this.

"Don't rush," Anders said when they finally reached the gate, the wolf now only fifteen metres away from them and slowly drawing closer. "It might be looking for a way out. It might charge as soon as we open that gate."

Movements deliberate and controlled, Hawke groped for the latch without taking her eyes off the wolf. She found it and the metal squeaked as she slowly began to pull the gate open.

"Steady," Anders urged and Hawke forced herself to breathe slowly. Forcing herself not to rush, she eased herself through the gate, hands on Anders' shoulders to guide him to the gate.

Anders never once lowered his rifle, keeping it trained on the wolf as Hawke manoeuvred him out of the gate. At the last moment, the wolf seemed to snap. It snarled loudly and lunged, charging towards them. Anders yelled back, stepping forward into the enclosure again and firing the rifle.

The tranquiliser dart sank into the flesh of the wolf's shoulder. It swerved away, jaws clacking in outrage at the unexpected pain – yet its eyes never left them.

Anders finally exited and Hawke wrenched the gate shut, rushing to padlock it again. With the metal fencing between them and white wolf, she finally fell back and swore loudly.

"What the hell was that?" Hawke shouted. The wolf flinched at her voice but did not retreat, pacing back and forth from where it had been shot. "That's not normal wolf behaviour, Anders, tell me you recognise that!"

"Of course it wasn't."

"Then what the hell was it?" Hawke snapped at him again, abruptly furious with his calm demeanour. Anders had slung his rifle over his shoulder and was watching the wolf with sad eyes. He turned that gaze onto her now and Hawke felt her breath catch in her throat at the force of the emotions she saw there.

"Think about it, Hawke. You know. Take away the fact that it's a wild wolf and keep the behaviour in mind. What would that behaviour tell you about an animal? What would it mean?"

His steady, deliberate manner of speech pulled her out of her erratic nerves. Hawke forced her mind to focus, running it all over in her head. When the answer slammed into her, it was so obvious she was surprised she had not seen it before.

"Oh. It's afraid. It's too afraid not to defend itself." She stared at the wolf, seeing it in a new light all of a sudden. "Its fear has become aggression."

"Which means we know one thing for sure," Anders said, his voice taking on a grim edge. "That is _not_ a wild wolf. It's been held in captivity … and it's been abused. You don't get that level of aggression in the wild."

A burst of compassion flooded through Hawke as she studied the still-pacing wolf. What level of torment would an animal have to go through to slaughter other members of its own species as soon as it saw them?

"We'll wait around to see if the dart takes effect. If not, we'll have to trap it."

An hour later, the wolf was still pacing with no sign of drowsiness. The dart had done nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote at the start of this chapter is taken from one of my favourite Imagine Dragons songs. This song also happens to be on the playlist I created specifically for this fic! Who knows? Maybe I'll include lyrics from other songs as the chapters go on :)
> 
> Comments are my fuel <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had not recognised her face, although he supposed that was fair enough. He had not exactly been looking at her face when he hijacked her car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I wasn't expecting to be able to update today, yet here we are!
> 
> Fun fact: I have a dog - Kelpie x - who has yellow eyes and long legs and muzzle, and when he runs at me at night he reminds me of a wolf. He's currently sitting at my feet while I write this. Oh wait, no, he just abandoned me to go curl up on his bed. Thanks, dog. Feeling the love.

_I remember this: his yellow eyes._  
_I thought I'd never see them again._  
– Shiver, Maggie Stiefvater.

There was no way out.

Fenris paced the fenceline restlessly, every fibre of his being jittery with anxiety. The two humans had left some time ago, talking about _traps_ and _lures_ , their every word making his skin crawl with horrific memories.

No matter what they did, he would not fall for it. Fenris would rather die than be subjected to _that_ again.

The full moon was still too recent for him to reclaim his human form. He had tried and failed to climb the fencing, which was not strung taut and tipped in towards the top. Short of exposing his enhanced abilities, he had no way of breaking free from this latest cage. And Fenris did not want to reveal his abilities this early on. If he did, these humans would pursue him as relentlessly as Danarius.

The mere thought of his master stung him and he growled, shaking his head as he paced anew. Where was Danarius now? Had he heard of the strange white wolf captured by humans? Was he on his way to collect Fenris?

Dread rose in Fenris at that thought and he bared his teeth at the air.

His side burned suddenly and Fenris twisted, teeth snapping at himself in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. The wound from the hunters shooting him had closed over and healed well but … something was wrong. His wounds did not hurt after they healed and they certainly never stung and burned and ached like this.

What had the humans done to him?

He heard the rumble of the ute returning well before he saw it. Fenris retreated into the treeline, camouflaging himself amongst branches and shadows so his white coat was masked. Clinging to this illusion of security, he watched as the humans got out of the ute and approached the gate once more.

They carried things with them, metal and cold. Clanging and harsh as they worked together at the front of the enclosure, one always scanning the treeline with gun in hand. Fenris bared his teeth again but checked the growl that wanted to tear from his throat.

Their construction complete, the humans began to withdraw. No, they were returning. Blood, he could smell blood. Fresh and rich and meaty. His mouth salivated and his stomach rumbled as he watched them move around the construction, only to leave the meat inside and exit the enclosure.

Fenris could not remember when he had last eaten. His prey had been stolen by the hunters and the wolf pack had not been food, they had been enemies. He had not consumed any part of their bodies, nor had he any desire to. Before that, his wolf memory did not stretch to recall. All he knew was the scent of food just sitting down there, waiting for him to take it.

For one moment, Fenris felt his muscles tense in preparation for movement. Yet as another breath brought the scent of _metal_ alongside blood, he snapped his jaws shut and raised his hackles instead. Clear thoughts were sometimes difficult to retain in this state, more so when he was weak and tired. Clarity came crashing back to him now and he stared at the front of the enclosure a moment longer before turning and trotting away deeper into the trees.

The humans may have set their trap but he would not be caught in it.

* * *

Fenris recognised the female human. Not at first, not with the wind blowing from him to her when she entered the enclosure with the male human. But now, as they stood no more than ten feet apart, separated only by metal fencing that seemed extremely flimsy in this moment. He did not need a breeze to scent her; he could smell it clearly enough and it was familiar to him.

He had not recognised her face, although he supposed that was fair enough. He had not exactly been looking at her face when he hijacked her car.

The moment between them was suspended in a breath, fragile enough to shatter in an instant yet timeless as long as neither of them moved. So Fenris did nothing, his gaze fixed and unmoving as a distant part of him wondered what cruel trick of the fates this was, to end up in the clutches of the woman he had essentially attacked.

He had not been looking for human interaction. Fenris had merely been pacing the fenceline once more, searching for a weakness or a blind spot from the cameras, hoping faintly for some unsuspecting prey he might hunt.

Two days had passed since the humans set their trap. The moon no longer held such a strong sway over him so Fenris was tempted to shift – but every time he began to focus on the transformation, the strange burning in his side intensified to agony. So he remained a wolf, anxious about what the humans had done to him but confused about their intentions towards him.

If it had been Danarius wanting to capture him and examine him under bright lights and harsh scents once more, Fenris knew the man would have stopped at nothing to corner and capture his prey. Yet these humans had done nothing more than try different cuts of food in their trap. He knew they viewed him as dangerous, a powerful threat. So why not use greater force to overwhelm him?

Fenris had been distracted when he came over the rise of the hill, thoughts on his aching belly rather than on potential threats. The gasp had alerted him, drawing him to an abrupt halt as he saw the woman on the other side of the fence.

They were on the eastern boundary of his enclosure. The main gate was situated on the south boundary and he had never seen humans here, despite taking note of the raceway that separated his enclosure from the next wolf pack. He had seen the wolves, a moderate pack of nine that regarded him warily. He knew they could still smell the blood of the last pack on him, and they wanted him to come no closer. The regular warning howls throughout the day only reinforced that.

The woman exhaled slowly and Fenris tensed, wondering if the moment was about to shatter. Yet when she spoke, soft and gentle, the moment stretched and reshaped around her words.

"Hey. It's alright, I won't hurt you." Her eyes lowered from his own, fixing on his chest instead of challenging his gaze. "I was hoping I might find you here. I mean, I didn't actually think I'd see you, let alone get this close to you but I _hoped_ …"

She breathed deeply, calming the nerves that Fenris could smell racing beneath her skin. And then she moved, lifting a hand in a smooth, controlled motion. Fenris jerked back a step, feeling the moment shatter for himself.

"No no, it's okay! See? It's food. It won't hurt you."

She opened the bag that she held and the powerful scent of meat washed out over him. His eyes darted between the bag and her face, heart thumping rapidly as he wondered what kind of trick this was.

"I know you haven't eaten anything since you arrived here. None of the traps have been touched – not that we're surprised, to be honest – and I know there's no prey to hunt in there. So, here. Have this. We can't have you starving in there."

The woman moved slowly, lifting small chunks of meat from the bag and pushing them through the gaps in the fence. Fenris watched them hit the ground, hunger almost overriding his wariness.

Almost. Not quite.

He lifted his eyes to hers again, wondering what she hoped to gain from this. He did not believe her words for a moment; people always said one thing but meant another. And they always tried to hide what they wanted from him. Even Danarius.

"It's okay, I don't want it." The woman retreated several steps, still keeping her eyes averted and posture relaxed. Instincts stirred in Fenris, whispering that she was not a threat. She could not reach him. And the food was so close …

It could be drugged. Or poisoned. He doubted either would truly affect him; his metabolism was fast enough and his immune system strong enough that toxins that would drop a horse in minutes were easily purged from his body. But this woman had seen him shot with a tranquiliser dart before. She had seen the lack of effect. Maybe she had increased the dosage to something that would actually sway him.

Hackles raised and lips bared, Fenris gave a low growl.

He waited for the frustration, the anger at his defiance. Or even the fear. All of these were normal responses, expected reactions to his stubborn behaviour. But the woman's face only softened further, grief filling her gaze.

"What did they do to you, huh? You don't even trust a bit of meat being offered freely … How could anyone harm such a beautiful creature that badly?"

The words burned in his ears, confusing him with their honesty. Fenris had never heard himself referred to as beautiful – not even Danarius lavished such praise upon him. He was lithe, unique, dangerous. These he knew. But beautiful? The growl ended in his throat, snarl feeling false upon his lips.

The woman abruptly sat on the ground, not flinching at the wet grass beneath her rear. Fenris felt his hackles fall flat at the gesture, too surprised to hold onto his aggression.

"You'll like it here, you know. I know you don't understand me and even if you did, you probably wouldn't believe me. But it's true. You're safe here. Whoever hurt you won't be able to reach you here. We'll protect you. And you'll have such a good life. All you have to do is learn to trust us."

_Trust._ His thoughts dripped with scorn at the mere suggestion. Even the woman hesitated, and he wondered if she sensed his disbelief.

"Though, I suppose that's probably a bit much to ask, isn't it? I wonder if anyone has ever been kind to you?"

Kindness was weakness. Weaknesses were exploited.

That had been the first lesson he ever learnt.

"You probably don't have a name, either, do you? That's a shame, everyone needs a name." Her brow knitted together and Fenris tensed, waiting for the outburst of anger or aggression. But she merely tapped a finger against her lips, before her expression smoothed out and a corner of her mouth quirked up. "Ghost. What do you think? Ghost? Yeah, I like that. I think it suits you, somehow."

He could not identify how the name made him feel. What did it mean when a single word made his bones ache and his heart yearn as his very soul seemed to resonate with something that described a restless death?

_Not at peace, trapped between two worlds, searching for peace, searching for something …_

The woman was right. The name did suit him.

She continued to talk, voice light and undemanding. At some point, Fenris realised he had shifted to sit. The scent of fresh meat still tickled his nostrils but he made no move to take it, content to simply watch and listen.

Content. That was a new feeling.

The sharp burning sensation was so sudden and intense that he acted on reflex, head whipping around with teeth snapping against his fur, ripping tufts away to dig towards his skin. A growl tore from his throat as the pain intensified and he twisted his body, seeking relief. If only he could carve through his flesh, find the source of his torment and rip it out –

The woman let out a sad noise and Fenris froze, abruptly coming back to himself. He pushed the burning pain down as he turned back to look at her, drinking in the concern and empathy written all over her body.

"It's your wound, isn't it? It still hurts? But …" She shifted, craning her head to get a clearer look at his side. Confusion flared in her scent and her mouth dropped open. "I … I don't … understand."

Fenris should have moved. He should have blocked her view, kept her from seeing his side. For there was no wound anymore, no stitches, no shaved fur – not even a scar. Normal wolves did not heal that fast. And now she knew.

"Ghost … who are you?"

The breeze stirred gently, swirling between them before drifting towards her. Fenris did not understand the myriad of emotions that suddenly crashed over her face. One moment she was leaning forward in the grass, looking as though she wanted to reach out and caress his fur. The next she was recoiling, stumbling to her feet. Fenris shrank back, hackles raised and teeth bared again.

"I'm sorry, I … I've got to go."

She fled, almost tripping over herself in her haste to get away. Fenris did not understand why. A part of him was disappointed. Yet his hunger was relieved, reminding him of its presence and drawing his attention back onto the raw meat lying only a few feet away from his paws.

Even if the meat was drugged, the woman was gone now. So Fenris slunk forwards and slowly took the first chunk into his mouth. Rich flavours burst across his tongue and he found himself devouring the rest, until it was all gone and he licked the blood off the grass.

He waited for the drugs or the poison, waited for sensation that something was duelling with his body.

Nothing.

Fenris turned his head in the direction that the woman had gone, scenting the air gently. Was she just trying to lull him into a false sense of security? It wouldn't be the first time. And yet … A part of him wanted to believe.

* * *

Hawke did not stop moving at the food prep kitchen or the clinic, not even reacting when Merrill called out a greeting to her. She did not stop, could not stop, until her car door slammed behind her and she sat in the still, quiet interior, breathing heavily.

The memories were stronger here, filling her mind with emotions and sensations and _scents_. It only made sense. It had all started in here.

_He had smelled of wood smoke and … something strange. Something sharp and almost biting. Something unlike anything she had ever smelled before. Something that ignited her senses and made her hair stand on end._

She had worked so hard to put it behind her, to shove it out of her mind. Hawke had other things to worry about, more important things to focus on. Weeks had passed. The thrilling incident had faded from her memory, happily replaced by thoughts of exams and papers and family issues.

Scents held the strongest connection to memories.

Sitting in the raceway between the Andoral pack enclosure and the Razikale pack enclosure, Hawke had thought of nothing other than the abused wolf before her and how she could possibly work to rehabilitate him. Every line of his body spoke of distrust, anger, violence. She wanted to see that all stripped away. She wanted to see it replaced with happiness, peace, trust.

Why, oh why, had the wind chosen that moment to stir?

Hawke was used to the scent of wolf. It was a strong, musky scent that was similar to dog and yet _not_ , so much more than that. She could smell that from Ghost, gentle on the breeze but familiar enough to her nose.

Yet that scent, that simple wolf scent, was chased by a scent she had only ever smelled once. A scent she had not known and had not wanted to know – yet she had known it would haunt her.

Something deep in her warned that Hawke should not pursue this any further. Knowing too much was dangerous. This deep instinct told her to forget about the scent, to cut ties with this abused wolf and leave his care to someone else.

Hawke had never been good at doing what she was told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote at the start of this chapter is taken from the first book in a werewolf trilogy which, honestly, if you haven't read them? Go read them!! I'm not much for overly romantic books (and yeah okay they are romance books) but the writing is too good and the plot too engaging, I love them! You can probably expect more quotes from those books.
> 
> Comments give me life <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teeth bared and soft growls emerging into the cold air, Fenris focused on his humanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter signifies the end of the plot points that I had clearly outlined. We're in uncharted territory from here on out so buckle up! Not even I know what's gonna happen anymore... ;)

_Who, who are you, really?_  
_And where are you going?_  
_I've got nothing left to prove_  
_Cause I've got nothing left to lose_  
_See me bare my teeth for you_  
_See me bare my teeth_  
– Who Are You, Really? Mikky Ekko.

She did not _intend_ to lose hours in front of her laptop, scrolling through page after page. She had only been planning to have a short look, maybe half an hour at the most, just to see what was out there. Yet here she was, finally pulling back from the screen to realise it was almost three o'clock in the morning and she had a class at nine.

Hawke groaned and scrubbed her hands across her face. Reluctantly shutting her laptop, she abandoned it at her desk and stripped off clothes as she retreated under the thick covers of her warm bed.

It had all started with the laundry. Hawke had been sorting through clothes and she found the business card Professor Danarius had given her. Thinking of him had only brought all the thoughts that scent back to the front of her mind, breaking free of the indifference she had tried to impose on herself.

There were only two times Hawke had ever smelled that scent. And now with it firmly back in the front of her mind, she was forced to acknowledge that there was no way she would be able to let this go until she had at least tried to figure it out.

She tried researching the man who had hijacked her car. Nothing. She searched for information on white wolves and strange scents. A whole lot of aesthetic pages alongside wolf scent marking, but nothing like what she was after. Hawke had no idea how long it had been before she typed in Danarius' name, only that this search brought a plethora of results.

Anders was right, Danarius was incredibly interested in human experimentation and advancement through genetic manipulation. Hawke was no stranger to biological sciences – she was a vet student, after all – yet the words thrown around in the articles about Danarius and in the snippets of his research made her head spin.

What did it all mean?

She tossed under the covers, wishing she could quieten her mind, but it continued to race and try to piece together all the information she had just absorbed. Was Danarius conducting experiments on animals before starting on human trials? But then how would one of those animals end up all the way down here in Kirkwall? And what did this have to do with the man that Danarius said had stolen military secrets? The two couldn't be connected!

Could they?

By the time her alarm went off, Hawke felt utterly wrung out and numb. She stumbled through getting ready for her class, avoiding her family and filling the largest thermos she could find with the strongest coffee she could make.

Her classes were a disaster and she made a mental note to download the lesson summaries later. She did not even want to go to the clinic but the thought of seeing Ghost spurred her on, giving her the energy to walk through the doors.

Hawke took small chunks of meat with her again and borrowed the buggy to drive out to Ghost's enclosure. It still stung her to think of the Andoral pack but she had to remind herself that Ghost had obviously suffered terrible abuses. Maybe he'd been used in illegal fighting pits, that would explain his aggression towards people and other animals. Whatever the reason, he could not be held responsible for the deaths of the Andoral pack. It was a symptom of his abuse and he knew no better.

The white wolf was not at the southern end of the enclosure when she got out there, so she drove the buggy down the eastern raceway, stopping at the same place as yesterday. Hawke was pleased to see the meat she had left the day before was gone and she contemplated the wisdom in calling out to her announce her presence.

Movement caught her attention and she froze, breath in her throat, as she watched a faint glimpse of white moving through the distant trees. Smiling, she lifted up the bag of meat.

"Here, boy. I brought more food for you. I can give it to you if you come a little closer," she spoke gently, not really daring to raise her voice lest she scare him off.

The flash of white disappeared and for a moment, Hawke thought he had retreated after all. Disappointment filtered through her and she craned her neck, searching for him. Then, over the small hill, came the large white wolf.

He was so much bigger than the other wolves at the clinic. Hawke couldn't be sure without examining him closer, but he seemed to stand as high as her ribs. He came to a halt the same distance away from the fence as yesterday, green eyes glittering with intelligence.

Smiling, Hawke pushed the meat through the fence and stepped back to give him room again. She doubted he would eat with her there but she at least wanted him to have the option.

Her smile faded as her gaze ran over his form, taking note of the raggedly bare patch of skin on his right side. Her brow furrowed in concern.

"Are you okay, Ghost? You were snapping at that yesterday and I know that's where you were shot. Did you rip out the fur? Is it hurting that much?"

The wolf shifted his body, blocking his side from her view and Hawke wondered if it was just coincidence or if he had somehow understood her words.

Who was she kidding? It was a wolf! It couldn't understand human words.

In any case, there was nothing she or Anders could do to help Ghost until they could catch him. Hawke was reluctant to put him under stress when she was working to build trust between them.

Yet if he was in pain, if something was missed in the surgery, did she have any other choice?

Hawke sat and chatted away for a while but kept a close eye on the wolf's side. Every twitch, every flinch towards his ribs. She could tell it was bothering him yet it seemed as though he did not want her to know that.

When she left, she parked the buggy back beside the kitchen and entered the clinic, heading straight to Anders' office. He looked up in surprise as she barged in, her face set in determination.

"Hawke?"

"Anders. Something is wrong with Ghost."

Confusion furrowed Anders' brow.

"Who?"

"The white wolf," she said and gestured impatiently. Anders raised his eyebrows.

"You named it?"

"I wasn't gonna let you get to it first. We all know what kind of catastrophes you pick as names!"

"Harsh," he said drily but with amusement in his eyes. "Alright, I'll bite. What's wrong with the white wolf?"

"I'm not sure, that's why we need to bring him in. But he keeps on snapping at his side where he was injured, and today he'd ripped all the fur off it."

Anders frowned.

"The fur around the surgical prep site? That's unusual. Any irritation would normally come from the site itself-"

"No, Anders, that's what I'm saying! It wasn't the fur around the prep site, it was the fur on the surgical site itself! The fur that grew back!"

"What fur that grew back?" Anders asked slowly, looking at Hawke strangely. She paused for a moment, before remembering that she had rushed out so suddenly yesterday that she had not stopped to talk to Anders about the startling healing rate that she had witnessed in the wolf.

"Oh. I forgot to tell you. Yesterday I saw him from the raceway between his enclosure and the Razikale pack enclosure. His side was completely healed over, fur fully grown back as though nothing had ever been wrong."

Anders' eyebrows slid even higher up his face and he leant back in his chair, arms folded.

"Are you saying you agree with Grace's claims of this wolf having an unnaturally accelerated healing rate?"

Hawke clenched her teeth together; she hated to agree with Grace, especially after everything that had happened between them. But if the shoe fit …

"Unfortunately, yes," she grit out. "Look, there's no other explanation for it. Which is concerning in its own right and makes her claims that the wolf woke up on the operating table a little bit more believable. But that doesn't matter right now, what matters is that Ghost has ripped his own fur out today! I think he's in pain, Anders. In fact I'm sure of it. And we need to do something about it."

Anders sighed, taking his time to think it all over. He slowly nodded, rolling his jaw thoughtfully.

"We'll need to go about it carefully, given how aggressive he is. I might call Doctor Wynne in Ferelden, she's got more experience with abused wolves and will probably have some advice on how to trap him and drug him."

"Thank you, Anders," Hawke said before hesitating. "Just … don't say anything about his fast healing rate to her, will you?"

"Why not?" Anders asked in surprise.

"Just a feeling," Hawke said and tried to give a non-committal shrug. "I think it's probably better we keep that to ourselves for now, until we can see for ourselves if he actually is healing fast, and if we can learn anything about why."

She was trying his patience and pushing the bounds of their friendship, she knew. But this was too important for her to back down, some deep instinct warning her not to tell anyone about Ghost's healing. So she kept her eyes wide and pleading, desperate for Anders to agree with her.

She knew how beguiling her blue eyes could be under the right circumstances.

Anders looked away, faint pink staining his cheeks.

"Fine. Just until we know a bit more about this wolf."

"Thank you!" Hawke said, leaning closer for a moment with a genuine smile on her face. She was probably laying it on a bit thick but she wanted to make sure Anders would keep his word.

Exiting his office, Hawke found her steps lighter than they had been all day and her mind clearer. She no longer felt the exhaustion from lack of sleep; instead, she felt energised and motivated.

"Oh, Hawke!" Merrill called as she passed through the small staff room. The other woman had a worried look on her young face but she brightened as Hawke paused and turned to her.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Hawke asked and Merrill's hands tightened on the phone in her grasp.

"Uh, mostly. Listen, I was wondering. I know this is last minute and all and you probably already have plans, but would you at all be willing to cover my night shift for me? Tonight? Just tonight, of course. Please?"

"I might need a bit more of an explanation before I agree to a night shift at the last minute," Hawke replied, already weighing up how wrecked she would be tomorrow if she said yes.

"I'm sorry, I wouldn't ask if I had another option. I've already called the others but no-one else is available. I don't know what else to do …"

Merrill ran a stressed hand through her hair and Hawke crossed the distance between them, sinking into the chair at the small table beside Merrill, to rest a hand on her shoulder.

"Merrill, what's going on?"

"It's Marethari. She's … Hawke, she's sick. I don't know how sick, no-one's told me. But I want to go be with her. I _need_ to be with her. Please?"

Hawke's heart ached in compassion. Merrill's relationship with her adopted mother was strained, at best. Marethari had always wanted Merrill to a 'more respectable' brand of medicine. Vet nursing was a waste of talent and an unreliable source of income, according to Marethari. Yet despite her adopted mother's disapproval, Merrill was deeply devoted to her and strove to prove herself constantly.

Yet even Merrill was aware of the divide between them. She had never called Marethari _mother_ or _mum_ , only ever by her name.

"Oh Merrill, of course! Go, I'll take care of everything. I'll talk to Anders about it. No, just go. You need to be there."

"Thank you, Hawke."

Merrill spared enough time to wrap Hawke in a tight hug before she darted out of the staff room, her belongings already in hand. Hawke sighed and headed over to the coffee machine. She may as well work to ensure her energy levels stayed high. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Fenris waited until the full heaviness of deep night had fallen. It was some time after midnight and he was restless, body longing to pace and snarl and expend the nervous energy that was trapped in his limbs, unable to find a way _out_.

He had stayed here too long. He should have left the same night he had killed the wolf pack. But he had allowed himself to rest, listening to the aches and pains over his body instead of the deep fear that drove him.

He should know better. His training had taught him that pain was weakness, a risky vulnerability. He had to be stronger than his pain.

There were no blind spots between the cameras. Yet it no longer mattered. These people were not military, were not the highly trained, elite forces he was used to evading. Fenris knew he could escape and be miles away before they were aware of anything.

His only regret would be leaving physical evidence of his abilities behind.

When they found him missing, these people would review the cameras, he was sure. And they would see what he could do. The mere thought of such exposure caused him to bare his teeth but Fenris knew he no longer had any choice.

The woman had been too attentive, his guard too low. He had see the way her eyes lingered on his side, on his twitches and flinches. He had seen the way her fingers jerked each time, as though longing to aid in some way.

The humans had not tried hard to catch him that first time. But if this woman was that concerned for his wellbeing, Fenris knew they would try something else. And this time, they might succeed.

He could not let himself end up on the table again.

The shift would be the most difficult part of all. His ribs still burned in agony every time he tried to shift and lately it seemed as though he could feel something grinding against his bones. Yet Fenris did not have the dexterity to bite through his own flesh and rip the _thing_ out of his side. Not without potentially damaging something vital.

It did not matter. He had to be stronger than his pain. He _would_ be stronger than his pain.

Paws light on the cold, wet grass, Fenris padded to the eastern boundary fence. The cameras had the worst angle here, coincidentally close to the place he had encountered the woman. He would still be seen and recorded, but if he stood close to the fence, it would give them nothing but a bad angle.

It was not as simple as closing his eyes, focusing his mind, and summoning the change. Not when in wolf form. His instincts were stronger in this form, his mind less human and more wild. Why should he shift back? Surely he was safer as a wolf, with teeth and claws and fur to protect him. Human skin was thin, fragile – his markings too visible.

Fighting his instincts was never an easy battle. Instincts were there to protect him, to guide him. They were so rarely ever wrong and it went against every fibre of his being to defy them. But Fenris knew he had stayed too long.

Teeth bared and soft growls emerging into the cold air, Fenris focused on his humanity. He dredged it up from the depths of his mind, clinging to it even when his wolf parts snarled and recoiled. He wrestled with it, moulding it to his body and setting his teeth against the pain.

_He was stronger. He was stronger._

The change came slowly, with difficulty. It edged over him, retracting fur and bending joints, reshaping bones. He snarled against it, using the sound of defiance to anchor himself. His side did not simply burn – it was ablaze with agony, molten torture under his skin and spreading out wider, trying to pierce through his organs. He couldn't do it, this was too much! His body would tear itself apart if he kept this up!

_Better torn apart than back in that place._

His snarls and growls changed, pitching high with pain and suffering. The yelping howls became screams and Fenris fell forward on his face, hands clutching frantically at his ribs.

Shivers wracked through his body and, slowly, the agony ebbed away and he opened his eyes. The world around was duller now, colours less intense and scents muted. A quick glance down confirmed this evidence as he saw naked skin, damp with sweat and pinched tight from cold.

He always forgot how cold his human form was in comparison to the wolf.

Stumbling to his feet, Fenris sucked in deep breaths to steady his upset system, and looked up at the fence. His eyes easily picked out the nearby cameras and he knew he had to move fast, give the cameras less time to record him.

So he stepped up to the metal chain-link and pressed his palms against it. Quick breaths increased his heart rate, made it easier for him to reach into that alien place inside him, to seize hold of the strange rage and let it ignite his form.

The brands across his body blazed blue, enveloping his skin with its brilliance. Fenris pushed against the fence and, finding no resistance, walked straight through.

* * *

Hawke yawned for the umpteenth time and stretched her arms above her head, knuckles cracking. Night shift had been incredibly boring so far. She was the only person at the clinic tonight; Anders was the vet on call and had retreated to his house for once, and Ella was the nurse on call but she lived only two minutes' drive away. If any emergency situations arose, it would be easy to call both of them to come help.

All that remained for Hawke to do was routinely check their in-house patients, administer any necessary medication, and stay awake with the emergency phone beside her. No calls so far but the night was still young.

She had her laptop open in front of her, next to the work computer that blinked through different camera feeds from around the wildlife reserve. Hawke hated her clinical management class and should have known better than to attempt work on her latest assignment for such a despised subject at this hour of the night.

Yet here she was, on her third cup of coffee already with zero focus and a mind that was all too eager for distraction.

The blinking camera feeds attracted her attention and Hawke watched them with boredom. It was always the same thing, never any change to the images. Why didn't the animals all decide to throw a party, put on some music and do a little dancing? That would spice things up –

Hawke froze, eyes locked on a new camera feed in a panel of six feeds. What …

The panel blinked away, replaced with a new set of feeds and Hawke lurched forwards, scrambling for the computer mouse. Where was it? She had to have been dreaming! There was no way that …

Her thoughts ground to a halt in her mind as she found the camera and brought up the individual feed. The time stamp confirmed it was a live feed, confirmed the enclosure and position. Her mouth fell open, heart racing in her chest.

The white wolf thrashed, body snapping in unnatural movements until the wolf was gone and a naked figure remained.

Hands pressed over her mouth in raw disbelief, Hawke was aware of nothing but the camera feed before her. She had no idea how long the whole process took, could barely understand what she had just witnessed with her own eyes.

When the figure stumbled to his feet and pressed his hands against the fence, Hawke felt her heart stutter as a sense of foreboding dropped over her. A cry of horror tore from her lips as his body ignited, almost as though it was on fire. He took a step –

Hawke ran.

Pelting through the clinic, crashing through the reinforced door and swearing furiously as she dropped the keys to the buggy twice before jamming the key in the ignition and gunning the engine. She raced faster than ever before, pushed the machine to the very limits of its capabilities. She had to get there! She had to reach him!

The eastern fenceline of the enclosure rose before her but there was no wolf, no man. Panic seared through her and she revved the engine faster, driving blindly along the raceway.

Wait – was that …

Standing in the buggy, Hawke leant forward and strained to peer through the darkness. Adrenaline fuelled her veins and before she knew was she was doing, her mouth was open and she was yelling into the night.

"Ghost! Ghost, wait!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://inyriljace.tumblr.com) And I recommend that you do, because sometimes I post questions directly related to upcoming chapters of this fic. And this would allow you guys to have more of an input into the fic, which would help me heaps. :)
> 
> Comments are awesome and you guys are epic! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris did not want to kill civilians. The murder of innocents was blood that never washed off – yet his determination never to return to Danarius was more powerful than his conscience. If he had to kill to survive, he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about twice as long as my usual chapters, you're welcome ;)
> 
> Also warning for medical procedure ahead.

_You can't wake up, this is not a dream_  
_You're part of a machine, you are not a human being_  
– Gasoline, Halsey.

The pain nearly crippled him.

Whatever was wrong with his ribs, whatever was in there, it was clearly not meant to phase through solid objects. Fenris lay on the ground, one hand clutching at his ribs as he desperately waited for the waves of agony to abate. Yet it only dulled, becoming a background throb that threatened to flare with every movement.

He pushed himself to his feet, sucking in deep lungfuls of air, because he was stronger than his pain.

Every step jarred through his body, rattling his nerves and setting his side on fire. Fenris growled deep in his throat, focusing his mind on his goal: escape. Once he was far away from here, deep in the wilderness where no-one would ever find him, then –

Then what? Was he just hoping this pain in his side would resolve on its own? Or did he dare to think that he could fix it himself?

Clenching his teeth against the pain and his thoughts, Fenris strode determinedly towards the northern end of the raceway. He would have to fix it himself. There was no-one else to help him; there never would be. He had always been alone and if he wanted to survive, he always would be.

His instincts stirred in warning and a moment later, he heard the familiar drone of the buggy's engine. Alarm surged through him and Fenris spared a glance over his shoulder. He could see the pinpricks of headlights far in the distance but approaching rapidly. How? Fenris had thought he would have at least until the morning before they realised anything was wrong. Were they specifically monitoring his enclosure for signs of movement?

Or was it Danarius, finally catching up to him?

Snarling in defiance, Fenris forced himself to go faster. His ribs screamed in protest but he persisted through it, arm clamped tightly over them to support them. He had to get away from this place, had to find some cover. But the whole raceway was nothing but grass and fencelines, leaving him nowhere to hide.

Cursing himself for not choosing a safer place to exit the enclosure, Fenris broke into a run. It was halting and slow, his body exhausted from shifting and phasing and the pain. Even as he dragged his legs through the motions, he knew it would not be enough. He knew he would have to stand and fight.

Fenris did not want to kill civilians. The murder of innocents was blood that never washed off – yet his determination never to return to Danarius was more powerful than his conscience. If he had to kill to survive, he would.

The buggy was closer now, the engine a high-pitched whine from the abuse of its small motor. His heart rate thundered in his chest and two beams of light lit up the world behind him.

"Ghost! Ghost, wait!"

No. Not her. Regret and guilt rose in Fenris as he recognised the woman's voice. Such cruel irony, that she would survive her first encounter with him, only to die at his hand later on. Fenris growled and wished she had never come out here. Wished she had never tried to tame him. If only she had stayed away and left him to his fate, she would have been safe.

The buggy was faster than his trembling body and Fenris allowed himself to slow to a halt. The headlights were bright on his naked skin now, illuminating him in such a way that he felt more exposed than he had in months. The buggy skidded to a stop and he heard the rushing footsteps on the grass, nervously slowing until she was merely a few feet from him.

Stupid, foolish. She should not come anywhere near him.

"Ghost." Her voice was shaky and uncertain. "Please. I … I know it's you. I saw …" She swallowed hard and Fenris listened to her fists clench, tensing for the attack. "I saw you change. From wolf to man. And I can hardly comprehend that – but honestly it explains so much about you and how intelligent you are and …"

What was she waiting for? He had left his back exposed to her! Why was she not striking?

"I'm sorry, this is crazy! I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. Wow. You're a werewolf!"

_Werewolf. Derived from the ancient Avvar word waerwulf. Meaning man who wears the skin of the wolf._

"But you don't have to run. I'm not going to hurt you and I'm not going to expose you to anyone. I wish I could convince you I was telling the truth! I only want to help you."

She was shifting closer, fists relaxed to open hands once more. She was within easy striking range. A dozen different assassination techniques scrolled through his mind and Fenris steeled himself. He had to do this. He would kill her and throw her body in with another wolf pack. He would steal the buggy, find the main building that housed the cameras. He would destroy the footage of himself, find clothes, and disappear into the night.

"Here."

She moved, fabric rustling, and Fenris dared to risk a glance over his shoulder. The woman stood there with an open expression her face, holding out her jacket to him. Why? Why would she offer something freely? There had to be something she wanted.

"You must be cold, it's freezing out here. Take it, please."

Maybe he didn't have to kill her right now. Maybe he could cooperate with her, allow her to think he was trusting her. She had to have come from the building that housed the cameras. Who knew, maybe she would destroy the footage of him herself! Only then, once he had gotten everything that he could from her, would he kill her. It would be cleaner, less risky in case there were other people in the building.

Angling his body towards her, Fenris took her jacket and slipped it around his waist for modesty. He could see the light flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. If this was to work, she needed to feel at ease around him.

A wide smile split her lips and she positively beamed up at him. Fenris felt himself thrown off-balance for a moment, not expecting such an open, friendly response.

"You don't have to run," she said again. "You're safe here, I swear."

Her heartbeat was steady and he knew she believed she was telling the truth. But Fenris knew it to be a lie; he was not safe anywhere.

"My name's Hawke. I hope you don't mind me calling you Ghost, I honestly thought you were just a wolf. Unless, there's something else you'd like me to call you?"

He should not give her his name, he was too easily identified by it.

What did it matter if he was going to kill her after all this anyway?

"Fenris," he forced the word out, surprised by how rough and coarse he sounded. How long had it been since he last spoke? "My name is Fenris."

The smile faded from her face, rapidly replaced by horror. The woman, Hawke, took a step back, hands trembling. Fenris tensed, mentally cursing himself. He had not expected her to know his name.

"You … I remember you!" She swallowed hard, anxiety and fear filling her scent. "You hijacked my car and held me at knife-point!"

Oh, his voice. Not his name. Of course she would have remembered what he sounded like. Fenris forced his eyes to drop before flicking back up to her.

"I did not want to hurt you. I was being chased and … I had to escape. Your car was the only option available to me."

"This can't be happening. It can't be you!" Hawke stepped back again, almost bumping into the buggy. Fenris kept his weight on the balls of his feet, his body poised for action. He should have expected this negative reaction. He doubted he would win her cooperation now. Better to eliminate her before she could raise the alarm.

"I am sorry," he said and lowered his eyes again.

"You're a wanted fugitive!" she snapped. "There are some very powerful people looking for you. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hand you over to them!"

His skin crawled and Fenris knew, he just knew, that she was referring to Danarius. Who else would expend the effort to reach out to this woman in the hopes of finding him?

"You know what I am," he replied slowly. "Of course there are powerful people looking for me. But what you don't know is that I never asked for this. All I want is to be free. To choose my own fate. Not be a pawn for the whims of others. And I will keep fighting for my freedom, no matter the price."

There was too much aggression in his words and his body language. He struggled to rein it back it, to find that persona of cowed and regretful again. Yet Hawke did not recoil in fear or scream for him to get away.

Instead, the horror faded from her expression. Her face changed and – to Fenris' shock – she regarded him now with compassion.

"Anders was right," she spoke softly, as though too much volume would hurt him. "They abused you, didn't they?"

Fenris found himself recoiling as he bared his teeth. How dare she peer straight into the heart of his trauma! He wanted to snarl and snap at her but held himself back. If she was sympathetic to his cause, she might help him.

"I don't want your pity," he growled.

"It's not pity," Hawke said, seeming almost offended that he would suggest such a thing. "Pity is indifference but I am not indifferent to the suffering of others. If I see an injustice, I do something about it."

Fenris kept himself entirely still, not daring to hope that she had changed her mind in his favour this easily.

"Then what do you plan to do about me?"

"Get you some more clothes, for starters. Get you warm. And get you some proper food, you're far too skinny! And then – oh, your side! Has it still been hurting you? What's wrong-"

He jerked back as she reached towards him, growling in clear warning.

"Don't touch me."

Hawke faltered, as though she only now realised what she had been doing. But her face was determined when she looked up to meet Fenris' gaze.

"This isn't going to be easy. You don't trust me and I sure don't trust you, either. But … if you let me, I'm willing to help you."

There it was. Beyond all of Fenris' hopes, she was freely offering her assistance despite acknowledging her distrust of him. She had played straight into his hands without even realising it. Fenris would not let this go to waste. He would squeeze every drop he could from her.

And then he would kill her.

* * *

Hawke's heart raced the entire way back to the clinic. Being a werewolf, she was sure Fenris could hear it but he said nothing, acting indifferent.

Werewolf. Ghost – Fenris – was a freaking werewolf. Hawke had always held an open mind towards abstract or inexplicable phenomena, but this was way outside her realm of experience. Werewolf! This was crazy!

Even more dizzying were the implications that this knowledge brought. Everything had suddenly fallen into place and it felt as though she had taken a step back and was now able to see the big picture.

Danarius was some big scientist from Tevinter. Fenris' accent was definitely Tevene. Danarius specialised in working to enhance human bodies. Fenris was a freaking werewolf! Not to mention his magical body-glowing-walking-through-fences ability!

Hawke forced her grip on the steering wheel to ease.

So much for the stolen military secrets that Danarius had told her about. As far as she could see, Fenris _was_ the military secret!

What the hell was she doing getting involved in all of this? Werewolves and Tevinter military experiments were so much bigger than her, so much larger than her small world of vet study and animal rehabilitation work. If she actually dared to help Fenris in some way, it could put her life at more risk than anything else ever would.

Yet how did she get out of this situation alive? She had seen the way Fenris' body tensed, his green gaze eerily intent on her. Hawke had no doubts that if he viewed her as a threat to his freedom, he would kill her.

Well then. She just needed to stay as useful to him as possible.

"Come on, this way," Hawke said as she parked the buggy and switched off the engine. Fenris walked behind her and Hawke could feel his eyes boring into her.

It made her skin crawl, and not in a good way.

Thankful now that there was no-one else in the clinic tonight, Hawke led him into the surgery prep room. There was an intake of air and she could feel him tensing behind her. A glance over her shoulder showed him standing in the doorway, nostrils flared wide as his eyes raked over the medical supplies around the room.

Oh, right. He was a military science experiment. Great work, Hawke.

"Here, put these on. They might not be the most comfortable but they're better than nothing." She handed him a set of surgical scrubs and he frowned as he accepted them, turning them over in his hands.

"These … will not be acceptable," he said slowly and Hawke found herself rolling her eyes before she could stop the motion.

"I don't have anything else to offer you right and you're not wandering around naked! Put them on."

Fenris hesitated a moment longer before relenting. He pulled on the pants but not the shirt, opting instead to slide his arms through the sleeves of Hawke's jacket. He was lucky he was so underweight at the moment; if he had been a healthy weight, the jacket would not have fitted. It still rode up his wrists but he was able to zip it without issue.

Leaving the surgery prep room, Hawke led him to the small staff room. He walked slowly and she knew he was drinking it all in, observing the cubbies and the names attached to them. Hawke forced herself not to worry about that right now. One thing at a time. So she raided Grace's stash of food in the communal cupboard, stealing a handful of muesli bars and a packet of instant soup.

"Here," she said and tossed the muesli bars to Fenris. He caught them easily, regarding the bars warily before unwrapping one and taking a small bite. Hawke turned back to the kettle she had just switched on then looked at the soup packet in her hands. What the hell. If she was making food, she may as well make some for herself.

A short time later, they were both seated on opposite sides of the small table, warily regarding each other as they cradled mugs of potato and leek soup. Fenris took a slow sip and Hawke sighed in frustration.

"This is so surreal right now. I have a freaking werewolf sitting in front of me!" She laughed bitterly and Fenris stiffened, eyes darting to each of the exits from the small room. Despite her mixed emotions, Hawke felt her heart ache at that.

"Okay, enough of this," she said and leant forward to rest her elbows on the table. "Before we get too involved with each other, I want to know your story. I want to know how you became the way you are, what the hell those tattoos are, and how you escaped. I want to know exactly how much danger I'm putting myself in by helping you."

An eyebrow quirked on Fenris' face.

"You should have asked those questions when we were outside," he said in an even tone.

"If I had asked them out there, I'm pretty sure you would have killed me. And I don't want to die. So, please, share your story with me and I'll try to think of a way to sort out this mess."

He looked down at the table then, brow furrowing in thought. Hawke wondered how much of what he told her would be the truth.

"I … As far as I know, I have always been this," Fenris finally spoke. "My earliest memories are of … experiments and tests."

Hawke forced down her own emotions and reactions. She needed to be blank and calm right now, just like when she worked with traumatised animals. Her own distress would only be detrimental right now. She needed to be professional.

"As I am sure you have gathered, I am from Tevinter. I was to be the first in a new line of supersoldier – enhanced, obedient and powerful. But after some years, I rebelled. I fled … and I have been pursued ever since."

"Why did you leave?" Hawke asked and Fenris shot her an unimpressed look.

"Would you like to stay in a place where they beat you daily, just to see how much you could take and how quickly you would heal? Where they subjected you to torture in the interests of conditioning? Where your every move was tracked and catalogued and evaluated?" He scoffed.

Hawke swallowed hard, fighting down the horror that rose inside her. He was trying to elicit a reaction from her right now, trying to intimidate her and prove he was worthy of being feared.

"What I mean … you said you were there for several years before you left. If that was all you knew for so long, what changed?"

His face became a blank slate, his body falling still and rigid. Hawke bit her tongue and tried to control her heart rate. Whatever Fenris was remembering, it wasn't good.

"I saw an opportunity and I took it," he said coldly. "Is that all you wish to know?"

"For now," she said and offered a small smile. It probably was not wise to probe too much this early on in their relationship. "Instead, will you let me help you with your side? It still hurts, doesn't it?"

His eyes narrowed at her for a long, quiet moment. Hawke held his gaze, keeping her posture open and non-threatening. Finally Fenris blinked and lifted his right arm, looking down at the side of his ribs.

"I do not know what is wrong," he said. "My body is capable of healing from tremendous injuries. Any infection or bacteria would have been flushed in minutes at the most. If anything, it is as though there is something inside that should not be there."

Hawke set her mug down and pushed back from the table.

"May I?"

Fenris glared openly but nodded slowly. So she advanced carefully, kneeling down beside him to examine his side. There was no scar and only one line of the swirling tattoos, curling up high underneath his armpit. Hawke avoided it, instead focusing on his ribs.

"I need to touch you," she said gently. "Is that alright? If there is something in there, I should be able to feel it like this."

"If you must," Fenris replied but his voice was rough. Hawke moved slowly, running one hand over his ribs. Nothing immediately obvious, other than Fenris tensing further and holding his breath. She explored further, being careful to avoid his tattoos and pushing harder with her hands. As she pressed back along the midline of his ribs, she felt something jagged and irregular under her fingertips –

Fenris growled and flinched back, teeth bared at her. Hawke pulled back and stepped away.

"There's definitely something there," she said when he stopped growling. "Your medical report said you were brought in with a shattered crossbow bolt protruding from your side. I think a piece was missed and that's what causing you pain." She hesitated, wondering the wisdom of suggesting this. But really, what other choice was there? "Fenris, if we don't remove that fragment, it will continue to hurt and probably cause internal damage."

"I will heal," he said dismissively.

"Not properly, you won't. Sure, I don't understand how your super werewolf abilities affect you entirely, but I know that if we don't remove that fragment, you will only get worse. And if you're running for your life, you can't afford that."

"What are you suggesting?" he snarled. "That I submit myself to surgery at your hands? Pah! You only want to get your hands on me, to open me up and see how I work. You are no different to the monsters that did this to me!"

"I am nothing like them, Fenris! And I would never subject you to full blown surgery!"

"Then how do you suggest we remove this fragment? Do you intend to magic it out of me?" he spat, tone acidic and mocking. Hawke was thrown off-balance for a moment; she had never encountered anyone as bitter and vicious in their speech and demeanour as this. It made her heart ache anew as she thought of what had caused him to be like this.

"No, Fenris. I was going to tell you how to do it yourself."

The surprise was evident on his face and Hawke found herself pacing the small room, brain whirring rapidly.

"I'm a vet student, not doctor. I've never done anything like this on a human – but I've studied anatomy and I've assisted in dozens of surgeries, even performed some of my own. I'm sure I can talk you through it, keep you away from any major blood vessels. And then if you heal as quickly as you say you do, we might not even need to worry about stitches."

She stopped pacing abruptly and turned to face him.

"What do you think?"

Fenris' brow was furrowed and he took his time to think it over, letting the silence stretch out between them.

"You swear you won't try to drug me?" he finally spoke.

"Of course not. I won't come anywhere near you."

"Very well. What are we waiting for?"

* * *

The stench of antiseptic was overwhelming. Fenris wanted to gag and strike out, to fight an enemy that could not be seen. Every instinct in his body warned him against entering the surgical room, reminding him of all the pain and torment he had suffered in similar rooms.

_Murmured voices, cold hands. Restraints that burned, that choked him. Lie still. Be silent. Knives cutting through flesh, molten fire in his veins. Snarls and screams. Howls without answer. Again, try it again …_

"Fenris?"

Hawke stood a few steps in front of him, concern on her open face. She was good at controlling her emotions, better than Fenris had expected. But he had not been Danarius' prize for nothing. He could see the tension in her body, smell the distress and slight fear in her scent.

"I will not go in there," he forced himself to say. Hawke looked at the surgical room before sighing.

"I can't even imagine how hard this must be for you, but it really is the best option. Everything is sterilised and easy to wash down. The other rooms don't have drainage like this one. Please? Can you trust me on this?"

She had no idea what she was asking of him.

Fenris turned on his heel and strode away.

"Wait, I'm sorry!" She rushed to catch up to him and he growled, spinning around as he braced for her to attack him, to touch him – whatever. But she kept her distance, hands held up in surrender.

"I'm sorry. Okay, we won't do it in there. But if we make a terrible mess in a consultation room, you're helping me clean it up."

He raised an eyebrow at that and Hawke led him down a hallway and into a small consult room. Posters of dog and cat anatomy decorated the walls and there was a dog skull replica on the desk beside a laptop. Hawke grabbed a surgical lamp that was bolted to the wall, switching it on and bringing it close to his side.

"Wait here, I'll go get the supplies we need."

When she returned, Fenris was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the whole procedure. Yet he said nothing as Hawke laid the items out on the examination table. Gauze, surgical pads, tubes of saline, clamps, forceps, and a scalpel. His instincts howled in distress and Fenris had to slow his breathing to halt the shift that threatened to slam through him.

"First things first." Hawke uncapped a marker. "I'm gonna need to touch you for this part, okay? But only this part! I won't touch you again unless you ask me to."

He nodded mutely and she leant in, quickly drawing a circle on his side.

"This is where the fragment is. You'll want to make an incision straight across here. Make it deep enough to go through the skin but not anything underneath."

She stepped back and held up a mirror, positioning it so he could see his side without having to contort his head. Fenris exhaled heavily and reached towards the scalpel.

His fingers trembled, jittering uselessly as he hovered above the surgical knife. He had to do this. He _would_ do this! Failure was not an option! But the closer he reached, the louder the memories screamed through his mind.

"You can do this, Fenris." He flinched, eyes jumping over to see Hawke with raw compassion on her face. "You must be terrified right now but that's okay. It's only natural. But there's no-one here but you and me. And I'm not holding any of the tools. You're in control now."

Somehow the scalpel ended up in his hands. He took deep breaths, searching for that mask of military calm that had been beaten into him. Behind that mask, he could do anything, commit any atrocity.

The scalpel sank into his skin, cutting in a straight line.

"Good, that's good. Now grab those forceps. Yeah, those. Use them to open your skin and hold it open. Oh, it's probably gonna hurt, like, a lot."

Pain was nothing new. He could deal with pain.

"You're doing great. Now, use one of those saline tubes to flush out the area, there's too much blood to see anything right now. Then pack it out with some gauze."

Slowly, steadily, Hawke coached him through each step. Fighting back the raging memories in his head, Fenris cut through tissue and muscle until he saw the black fragment of carbon fibre reflected in the mirror.

"You need to use those other forceps to grab it and pull it out, Fenris. After that, we're pretty much done. And from the rate that you're clotting, I'd say we need to move quickly. Your body is trying to heal you already."

He tried to grasp it, tried to find the right angle. But the forceps slipped, jarring through his exposed insides and Fenris bit down on the savage growl that tried to explode from his throat. The pain was wearing on him – coupled with the memories, he did not know how much longer he could last without screaming.

"Fenris-"

"I can't!" he snarled, throwing the forceps back on the examination table. "It's useless!"

"Breathe, Fenris. I know you can do this."

"No, I can't! I won't!" He bared his teeth at her, wishing that she would recoil and cower, that she would expose her neck to him and show submission. But Hawke held his gaze and kept herself calm.

"We've come so far. We're almost there. Try again."

Growling, he reached for the forceps. He stared, unable to grip. His hands were trembling worse than before and Fenris closed his eyes tightly, fighting against himself.

"You do it," he said and thrust the forceps towards her.

"What? No, I can't … I mean, you didn't want me-"

"Just do it, now! Before I change my mind."

"Okay then, okay. Just relax, Fenris. It'll be over in a moment."

His eyes dragged back open to watch, not willing to leave himself blind when he was this vulnerable in front of her. Hawke moved swiftly and with clinical precision. He barely felt the forceps inside him – but he felt the pressure against his ribs, along with the sudden agony when she pulled the fragment out."

Fenris snarled, staggering back. Blood poured from the wound and he wanted to clutch his hands against it.

"No, don't move!" Hawke cried, hurrying after him. "Here, just let me …"

He stood stock still as she flushed the wound, using a clamp to compress the blood vessel that wanted to stream. Fenris worked to control his breathing; she was too close, her scent strong in his nostrils.

"There's minor damage to your ribs but I think that will heal up now that the fragment is out. I'm gonna close up now."

In bare moments, Hawke had removed the clamps and forceps before pressing a wad of gauze and surgical pads against the wound.

"Hold that there. Given your accelerated healing rate, it should close over in a few minutes or so."

Fenris obediently held the pads, pressing firmly to stem the blood. He felt lightheaded and weak as relief washed through him. It was over.

Hawke retreated to the examination table and began cleaning up. She paused to hold up the crossbow fragment, examining it under the lamp.

"I can't believe Grace missed this. If you weren't a werewolf, it could have killed you!"

The name meant nothing to Fenris but he was struck with the sudden urge to laugh. He forced it down, focusing on his breathing instead. It would not do to lose his composure any further than he already had in front of this woman.

"I'm gonna go sterilise these and then we can get you cleaned up. You'll need a fresh set of scrubs," Hawke said, glancing meaningfully at his pants. Fenris could feel the blood slick on his skin and staining the top of the pants. "And then, I'll have to figure out what the hell I'm going to do with you. You can't stay here – oh. What am I gonna tell Anders about the white wolf?"

Groaning in frustration, Hawke marched out of the room with the surgical instruments. Fenris let his eyes close as he sagged against the wall. Alone, he was forced to admit that he could have never dealt with that fragment in his side on his own.

Perhaps he needed Hawke's help more than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not a doctor or a vet. I have never performed surgery, only first aid on horse leg wounds and puncture wounds. The above process is probably entirely wrong. But hey! It makes for good fiction!
> 
> Comments give me life.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fenris, don't!"
> 
> Hawke barely had time to register what was happening before she lunged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to have this chapter up sooner but life happened. Oops.

_If I hadn't seen the wolf in the flesh, I would've never known there was anything wrong._  
– Linger, Maggie Stiefvater.

"What if you stayed a wolf?"

It was not an ideal solution; Hawke knew that even as the words left her lips. Yet this late at night, running on fumes as she was, Hawke was struggling to come up with anything better. Fenris regarded her with a blank face. She figured that probably meant _no_.

"I just mean, I can't exactly bring you home with me. Not without my family asking a lot of questions. And how would I explain the white wolf being gone after my night shift? So, I was thinking, if you could just stay a wolf a little while longer, that would give me more time. To figure out how to help you better."

Fenris frowned and Hawke could practically see his mind racing with potential outcomes from this course of action. Her own mind came up with a whole bunch of cons even as she watched him, hoping he would say something to support her idea. But even before he spoke, Hawke could see the finality of his decision and she knew why – if Fenris went back to being a wolf, he would sneak away again, but without her help.

"I am not a pet," he growled. "I refused to be caged like one."

Hawke sighed, exasperated that that was the comparison he chose to draw. In all fairness, Hawke could understand his perspective. After years being enslaved and controlled and treated like a _thing_ , of course he would reject something that resembled his freedom being taken away.

"Then I honestly don't know what to do next," Hawke confessed and shrugged her shoulders before stifling a yawn. "Let's be honest, even if I managed to sneak you into my house without anyone else finding out, it's a massive risk and I'd rather not chance it. I figure the less people that know about you, the better."

His lips tightened at those words and Hawke wondered what that response meant. Was it merely a natural response to the threat of others discovering his identity? Or was it something deeper than that?

"Look, let's leave it for now. We're both tired and could do with a break. There's a cot in the back of Anders' office, through that door there. Go close your eyes for a bit. I've got to do my rounds shortly, anyway, so I'll stay up and see if I can think of a better solution for this … mess."

Fenris did not move from where he leant against the counter in the staff room. Hawke blinked up at him, wondering why he was still there. She could see the weariness around his eyes and in the tension of his shoulders. Surely this was a good suggestion?

"The cameras that line the perimeter of the enclosures," he finally spoke, green eyes intense. "That is how you saw me shift, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Hawke agreed slowly, not sure where he was going with this. Fenris hands tightened into fists and it seemed so reflexive that she wondered if he even noticed.

"Delete the footage. Now. I need to see you do it."

"What? Fenris-"

"Do it!" He was snarling now, pushing off the counter and taking a step towards where she sat at the small table. His whole body was tense and thrumming with energy. Hawke felt fear slide down her spine and she fought to crush it. "Do it or I'll-"

"Fenris, I don't know if I can!" she hurried to explain. "Believe me, if I could, I'd do it in a heartbeat. We don't need that falling into the wrong hands. But I only know how to operate the cameras, how to find certain time frames and all that. And the footage is only saved for a four week period, anyway. Anything after that is automatically wiped to make room for new footage. But to try and find where recent footage is stored … I've never had to do anything like that. I can try, of course I'll try. But I can't promise anything."

Fenris leant further into his space, his face hard and unforgiving.

"Then try."

So Hawke led Fenris down a hallway and to a general office. Her laptop still sat next to the work computer and she closed its lid as she slid into the wheelie chair. Fenris hovered behind her, his body emanating heat that she could feel through her clothes. Or was she imagining that? Was it simply that her body was hyperaware of him and where he was in proximity to her?

"Give me some time," she said as she began to click through the system settings on the work computer. "I'll need to check-"

The emergency phone rang next to her laptop, causing Hawke to jump violently. Fenris flinched and growled but Hawke waved a hand to calm him down even as she worked to recover from her own shock. She must be more tired than she thought.

"Kirkwall Wildlife Clinic Emergency Line, how may I help you?" Hawke said as she answered the phone.

_"Oh, thank goodness! I've lost my dog, a four month old Pomeranian cross. You haven't had anyone report or bring in a dog matching that description, have you?"_ came a worried woman's voice. That radiating warmth behind her shifted closer and Hawke glanced over her shoulder to see Fenris leaning in, his head tilted in concentration.

"No, I'm sorry, we haven't seen or heard anything. Can you give me some more details and a contact number? Just in case anything turns up. When did you last see your puppy?"

The woman answered in a shaky voice, falling into a lamenting explanation of a late night out with friends, only to finish in the horror of a missing puppy. Hawke offered the appropriate sympathy and asked further questions, scribbling down all the details on a scrap of paper.

"Don't worry, Judith, we'll certainly keep an eye out for her. And we'll contact you immediately if we hear anything. Take care, bye."

Hawke had barely hung up the phone before a floorboard near the office door shifted. She _felt_ Fenris recoil, the air around them charging with tension and … something else, something foreign and electric.

"What the-"

"Fenris, don't!"

Hawke barely had time to register what was happening before she lunged. Someone standing in the doorway. Fenris lunging to attack, the white tattoos on his body igniting into blue light as he pulled a fist back to swing. Hawke threw herself in front of Fenris to stop him, to protect him from this newcomer, to –

All the air punched out of her body, expelled by the glowing fist that _entered_ her chest. Hawke stared up at Fenris blankly, her mouth slack and open in horror. Every fibre of her being screamed in terror, screamed that this was _wrong!_ Nothing should be inside her chest! She should not feel knuckles scraping against her heart, only millimetres away from crushing it!

Alarm leapt over Fenris' expression and he yanked back, the glowing blue light extinguishing as soon as his fist left her body. Legs too weak to hold her, Hawke collapsed as someone familiar shouted and ran forward to catch her.

"Get the hell away from her!"

* * *

Fenris was trapped.

His weight balanced on the balls of his feet and his eyes jerked neurotically around the room, cataloguing exit points, obstacles, enemies. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he had to fight the urge to shift, to clothe himself in a wolf pelt and strike out at this latest threat.

Shaking and face terribly pale, Hawke was sitting in the wheelie chair once more. She should be resting, yet she was resolutely blocking the foreign man's access to the rest of the room and, incidentally, Fenris.

"… Didn't you see what he did to you?" the man was shouting, his face red with rage. "He tried to kill you, Hawke! I'm calling the police!"

"Anders, would you just shut up and listen for five seconds?" Hawke snapped back.

She should not be able to muster such volume after experiencing Fenris' fist phasing through her. Really, she should not be alive. Fenris had witnessed highly trained men screaming in agony and falling in death throes after suffering Fenris phasing into them. Even if all he did was phase a hand and push it inside – did not wrap around the heart or the lungs or the liver or any other organs – the men would die. Heart attack, stroke; the autopsy reports were all the same. Whatever Fenris' phasing did to another person's body was unnatural.

Some survived, of course. Some only collapsed and cried as they crawled away from him. Fenris had to fight to hold himself in place when they did that. Seeing weak and vulnerable prey trying to escape him triggered every single hunting instinct inside him. He longed to chase them down, hamstring them and lunge for the jugular.

Fenris pushed such thoughts down. They belonged to the monster that Danarius had turned him into and he did not want to be that anymore.

"… Ghost, Anders, he's Ghost! The White Wolf! He's a freaking werewolf and he's in danger. He didn't mean to hurt me, he just reacted …"

His reaction was a concern, in itself. Fenris never should have been caught off-guard like that. He was a finely honed weapon, an enhanced creature with far superior senses to any other human. He should have heard this foreign man approaching, should have heard the key in the lock. He should have scented him as soon as he set foot inside the clinic.

Yet Fenris was exhausted. His body felt as though it was held together by frayed rope that threatened to break at any moment. And he had been distracted. The phone call had startled Fenris, had concerned him, so he focused on it. Focused too hard. He had blocked out everything else just to listen to a woman calling about her missing pet.

Fenris had missed the signs of this man approaching, and he had almost killed Hawke because of it.

"… Do you even hear yourself right now? Werewolves are not real!"

"Then how do you explain what just happened? Please, Anders. Just let me show you. Please."

The Anders man grumbled a reluctant agreement and then Hawke was turning to Fenris, regarding him warily.

"I need to show him, Fenris. I need to show Anders what you are. He can help us. Please let me do this."

Mutely, Fenris stepped back to clear room for Hawke to return to the work computer. The movement backed him further into the office, further into _being trapped_. His skin crawled and he fixed his eyes on Anders, fighting the urge to growl.

Anders strode straight up to Hawke's side as she rolled the chair back to the computer. She was trembling and ashen but determined. Anders was furious, defiant and protective. He stared straight back at Fenris, hatred clear in his eyes.

_Threat_ , Fenris' instincts whispered but he shoved them down. Hawke tapped at the computer and a moment later, tilted the screen towards Anders.

"Here."

In spite of himself, Fenris could not resist the temptation to watch the footage. He fought the impulse, wanted to continue staring daggers into Anders' skull even after the man turned away to watch. But curiosity won over and Fenris let his gaze slide.

Strange emotions coiled through his gut as he watched his wolf form stretch and crack and collapse into the human form. The coiled emotions unrolled and seeped through every vein in his body as he watched his brands ignite and phase him through the fence.

Fenris had shifted hundreds of times. He had phased just as much, if not more. Yet he had never seen footage of himself doing it. He suddenly felt sick and repulsed. The room closed in around him and as his heart raced in his chest, he knew he had to get out.

"That's not possible," came Anders' shocked voice.

Hawke's voice rose in response but Fenris could not distinguish the words. Anders shifted closer to the desk and in that moment, Fenris saw a small path of escape open up before him.

He ran, instincts overwhelming him before his thoughts had a chance to process. Hawke yelled out behind him but he kept running, out of the office and down a hallway he had not traversed yet. A door rose in his way and he slammed it open.

Cold air slammed into him and he sucked in a deep breath, dragging the biting shards into his lungs. Grass was damp underneath his feet and he slowed to a halt. Glittering stars shone overhead and Fenris let a shudder sweep through his body.

"Fenris, wait!"

He heard Hawke exit the clinic and come towards him – but not too close. He could smell Anders behind her, wary and distrusting.

"Fenris? Are you alright?"

"What is the point of all this, Hawke?" Anders bit out angrily. "You saw it for yourself. The man is dangerous! You shouldn't have anything to do with him. Send him away. Get rid of him."

"How can you say that?" she retorted. "You diagnosed his behaviour when he was a wolf but now just because he's a man, you don't think he needs our help?"

"I think he's more trouble than he's worth! You don't owe him anything. Sure, he's not a wolf now and his side is healed. Great. But now he can leave. I don't want him in my clinic anymore."

"But Anders-"

"He's dangerous! There will be people looking for him, Hawke. Did you stop to think of what they would do to you if you tried to protect him? They'll kill you, if he doesn't kill you first!"

"How dare you-"

"He's right." Fenris turned slowly, breaths evenly measured as he regarded Anders with clear distaste. "You know there are people after me. And what I just did to you … greater men have died instantly from such an experience. I am a danger to you. You should just let me go."

Hawke's arms dropped from where they had been folded across her torso.

"It's too late, Fenris. I've already seen you, I've already helped you, I already know what you can do. I'm damned just for that, and you know that too. If the people who are hunting you track you this far, it won't matter if I've sent you on your way. They'll kill me to make sure there are no loose ends. So I may as well help you."

"What are you going to do with him?" Anders demanded, his voice filled with scorn. "Smuggle him into your family's home and hope your mother doesn't notice?"

"No," Hawke replied as she turned back to Anders. There was a determined tone in her voice that had not been there before, something hard and stubborn. "It's not safe for him to come home with me but he can't stay here, either. So he'll go home with you, Anders."

"What? Hawke-"

"You live alone, Anders. There's no-one to ask probing questions, no-one else to risk. And you already know everything as well, so you're in just as deep as I am."

"No!" Anders sputtered in outrage. "Never! He's a monster, Hawke! I won't-"

"He needs our help!" Hawke shouted back, stepping straight into Anders' face with her fists clenched. "You always talk about equality and helping the abused but as soon as an opportunity to do exactly that falls into your lap, what, you're going to turn your back on it? I thought you were a better man than that!"

Tension simmered between them as Hawke and Anders glared each other down. Fenris held himself poised for action. If Anders said no, Fenris would be left with no choice. He would not run the risk of anyone else discovering him. He would kill them both here, erase all evidence of himself, and leave.

Anders' shoulders sagged.

"Fine. But I am only agreeing under protest! This is stupid and dangerous."

"I know. And thank you, Anders." There was so much sincerity in her words that it changed the expression on Anders' face. He looked tender in that moment and Fenris filed that detail away. He could exploit that if he needed to.

Then Hawke turned to him and Fenris was stunned by how large and blue and endearing her eyes were. He felt frozen in place, unable to move or look away. She smiled, reaching out towards him but not far enough to touch, remembering his aversion to contact.

"It's going to be okay, Fenris. I promise. We're going to help you through this."

She had no right to promise such a thing; it was not a promise she could keep. Yet as Fenris stepped forwards and let her guide him back into the warmth of the clinic, he felt something small and golden, warm and unfamiliar stirring in the pit of his gut.

It was foolish and futile but Fenris wanted to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I told you guys how amazing you are and how much you motivate me?? Well it's true! Thank you for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks and hits! 
> 
> And by all means, keep them coming ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How do you know that name?" Fenris snarled as his instincts screamed for him to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I must admit that I had planned to update much sooner than this. But life circumstances combined with visiting family conspired against me. Sorry for the wait! 
> 
> And we are almost at the end of the month. Which means that Camp NaNoWriMo is almost over! :O I can't guarantee regular updates after the end of this month but I'll still do what I can. I'll just be giving attention to my other neglected fics alongside this one.

_'Cause you seem like_  
_An orchard of mines_  
_Just take one step at a time_  
– Orchard Of Mines, Globus.

Sharing a house with Anders was a new exercise in survival. It was a large house, built at least one hundred years ago in ancient Tevinter style. Situated a quarter mile east of the vet clinic and on the same remote land as the clinic and reserve, the house was more than large enough for Anders and his unexpected house guest.

Fenris spent his days on tiptoe, not wanting to disturb the tentative truce that hung between them yet needing to know where Anders was at all times. In a very short space of time he learnt a lot about the strange man.

Anders worked himself to the bone. He stayed longer at the clinic than any other, often leaving the house in the middle of the night to check on something he had remembered or woke thinking about. He was neat and tidy in all things except his attire, despite his erratic hours at home, and he only made use of a few rooms in the massive house. He also despised Fenris, glaring at him when their eyes caught and warning him against touching anything – or against hurting Hawke.

But most difficult of all were Anders' cats.

Fenris had never been overly fond of cats but now he was living with what seemed like dozens of them. They wound around his legs, followed him from room to room, and settled into his lap the moment he sat down. Growls and snarls were ignored by them, as the cats only returned cool gazes.

The only cat who did not chase him around in curious fascination was an old orange tabby. This cat stuck close to Anders, following after him and settling at his feet more like a dog than a cat. Whenever Anders was in the house, this cat became his shadow. When he was out, the cat rested on the window sill beside the front door, waiting for his return.

Fenris did not know what was expected of him. As days slipped from one to the next, he drifted nervously around the house with no clear goal in sight. For so long, his only goals had been to survive, to stay ahead of Danarius.

Now he had the help of others. They had destroyed the footage of his shift and phasing. They were housing him, feeding him, clothing him. He was – for all intents and purposes – entirely off any radar that Danarius might use to find him.

It was not enough. This fragile peace would not last and Fenris felt guilty to sit around and do nothing. He was wasting time when he should be out there, searching for …

Searching for what? He did not know anymore, did not know what he hoped to gain from all of this. He remembered the hopes and dreams that had driven him out of Tevinter, notions of freedom and bodily autonomy. But Fenris did not know what those dreams looked like here, in Kirkwall. He did not know how to firmly seize hold of them. He did not know how to tell if they were an illusion or a reality.

Nothing was certain while Danarius was alive.

Five days after taking up residence in Anders' house, Fenris raised his head towards the front door before it opened. Anders was returning but there was someone else with him. Fenris' body tensed, ready to hide or attack. But the door opened and Hawke spilled into the house ahead of Anders.

"Hi Fenris!" she called cheerfully and he felt surprised that she had so easily spotted him standing in the shadows behind the staircase – but she was already bending down to greet the old orange tabby. "Well hello there, Ser Pounce-A-Lot! What a handsome kitty! Who's a good boy?"

The cat meowed brightly, winding happily between Hawke's legs until Anders entered, stealing the cat's attention. Fenris stepped out of the shadows and came forward but halted a few metres away.

"Hawke," he said in cautious greeting.

"So I have a plan," she said dramatically, barrelling straight past Fenris and heading straight for the kitchen. She was carrying a shopping bag and Fenris cast a dubious glance towards Anders before following. Hawke began to unload the shopping bag, firing up burners on the stove and dumping different ingredients into pots. Fenris watched in confusion.

It was not the first time Hawke had come over since he agreed to stay with Anders, but it was the first time she was cooking the food herself instead of ordering takeout.

"You're never gonna be safe until the people pursuing you are eliminated, right? Until everyone who knows about you is gone or no longer interested, there's gonna be a target on your head," Hawke continued as she stepped around two curious cats that stood directly in her path. "And no-one knows who's hunting you better than you, right? So I figure we can compare notes and see how much we know between us."

"Compare notes?" Fenris echoed. Hawke flashed him a grin as she began to cut an onion. Anders walked past Fenris and pulled some spices out of his spice rack, offering them to Hawke. He did not seem at all perturbed by her actions and as Fenris watched them together, they looked so natural and comfortable in each other's space, working in this like they had done it a hundred times.

Fenris did not understand why but that thought made him uncomfortable.

"Yeah. I'll start." Hawke paused in her flurry of movement, turning to fix him with a strange expression. She fingered something in her pocket and Fenris felt his hackles raising in alarm. "Have you ever heard of a man named Danarius?"

Fenris froze in place, fear burning through him even as he growled. Sadness flashed across Hawke's face and she nodded, her hand dropping away from her pocket.

"I thought as much."

"How do you know that name?" Fenris snarled as his instincts screamed for him to run.

"He found me after you hijacked my car. He said you were a dangerous fugitive who had stolen military secrets and he wanted any details about you that I could think of. He gave me his card. I didn't give him anything."

"Wait, Professor Danarius was looking for _him?_ " Anders cried in alarm as he gestured wildly towards Fenris. "Hawke, this is insane! I told you how dangerous that man is!"

"He will come back here," Fenris said, stepping away as his mind raced. He had spent days in this house, he knew where all the exits were, knew the lay of the land. He could get out and run before they could stop him, before they could hand him over to Danarius.

"Fenris, it's okay," Hawke said in a calm voice with her hands outstretched. "He's not here and he won't come back. I never told him anything about you and he has no reason to believe that we are connected any further than that random encounter. You're safe, Fenris! I promise."

He growled and began to pace; her reckless promises infuriated him. She had no way of knowing he was safe! Fenris knew that better than anyone.

"But I would like to know everything that you know about Danarius," Hawke continued in a gentle voice. "The more I know, the more prepared we can be."

"You'll never be prepared enough for him!"

"Fenris, please. We have to at least try."

"Fine! You want to know how he engineered me? You want to know how he injected the lyrium into my skin himself?"

"Lyrium? What's-"

"You want to know how he ordered me beaten and smiled as he watched? You want to know how he turned me into his lapdog, into his _pet?_ You want to know how he … he h-"

Fenris turned away, whole body trembling anxiously. He could not do this. He could not be here, around these people. He was too vulnerable, too open to attack. And they were too oblivious to see the threat they posed to him.

"No, Fenris." She took a step towards him but Anders' hand whipped out to try and hold her back. "I don't _want_ to know. But if I am going to help you, I _need_ to know anything that could be helpful. That doesn't mean you tell me every abuse he ever heaped upon you. It means that you tell me how he thinks, how he reacts. He's been hunting you for months but you've been evading him, so you must have some idea of how his mind works."

_Well done, Fenris. Such a good pet. My little wolf._

A shudder rippled through his body and he refused to turn around. Fenris knew, with every fibre of his being, that he should not stay here. He should simply kill them and leave. Or if he would not kill them, then he should sneak out in the night. Leave them none the wiser to his actions or direction.

It did not make any sense but Fenris could not force his feet to move.

"It's alright if that's too much to ask for right now," Hawke said and he could hear her shifting back towards the stove, stirring something in a pot. "I can't even imagine what you've gone through so I have no idea how difficult it must be for us to ask this of you. So how about this instead? Tell us about being a werewolf, if you can. Do you have to shift on a full moon? And is silver actually a weakness or what?"

The change in topic threw him and Fenris said nothing, breathing heavily as he tried to organise his thoughts and get his emotions back under control. Hawke and Anders stayed quiet, working steadily behind him. There was something about the rhythmic way they worked, the noises of the pots and bubbling food. It was foreign to Fenris. Yet it was somehow soothing.

It took him a long time to realise Hawke was giving him the time and space to pull himself back together.

"This … is unnatural to me," Fenris finally said and though his voice was unsteady, he found the strength to turn back to them. Anders was tense and watching him closely, one hand tight over a wooden spoon. But Hawke's gaze was steady and confident, an encouraging smile lightly touching her face.

She still said nothing, entirely undemanding, and something in Fenris made him entirely grateful for that.

"Being here, I mean," he continued slowly. "Being with people like you, watching you prepare food, even being inside this house …" Fenris trailed off as his eyes drifted to the rolling green hills that he could see out the kitchen window.

"Did you spend a lot of time outside? In … in Tevinter?" Hawke asked cautiously, clearly not wanting to probe too hard. Fenris snorted.

"The opposite. I was rarely allowed outside in Tevinter. My whole life, my entire world, was made up of a sterile facility. White walls, metals bars …" He waited for the flashback to come, for it to steal him away and leave him feeling like all the air had been punched out of his lungs. But it never did.

"When I escaped, I discovered a whole new world. Oh, I had been out a few times but only under close supervision and never for a long period of time. My master – Danarius – was jealous of me and wanted to keep me hidden away. _Until the time was right,_ he used to say. But being on the run, surviving out in the wilderness for months on end … it was wonderful."

Such words felt strange coming out of his mouth yet Fenris realised they were true. So much of his flight from Danarius had been filled with stress and fear and panic. He barely remembered the early excitement and wonder of new experiences – until now.

"Your instincts must have been loving it," Hawke said with a fond smile on her face. Fenris felt his heart stutter in his chest; he had never seen that smile before. "After all, wolves are meant to be wild and free."

That confused him and he frowned, trying to process and understand the words.

"But you have wolves here that you keep caged."

"That's a conservation effort. It's nothing like what you went through. Our wolves have more than enough room for each pack, we enrich their enclosures to stimulate their minds and encourage natural behaviours. One day, we hope to release some wolves back into the wild. But for now, we're building up numbers and spreading awareness. Wolves are an endangered species in the Free Marches. We're trying to change that."

Fenris could hardly comprehend such a notion and he glanced to Anders, who still clutched the wooden spoon but not as tightly.

"What else can you tell us about being a werewolf?" Hawke prompted gently. "Do you retain clarity of thought when you're a wolf?"

"I do not know how to describe it," Fenris confessed. "It is still me but … other things are more important as a wolf. Focus can be difficult to maintain."

"And the moon? Does that hold any sway over you or is that just complete folklore?"

"No, the moon is powerful. I turn into a wolf every full moon, whether I want to or not. My enhanced abilities are at their peak during this time. But it is the opposite for every new moon. I cannot shift to a wolf no matter how hard I try. And my abilities are dampened."

Hawke's mind was racing with this information; Fenris could practically see the gears turning in her head. In contrast, Anders looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"We can give you somewhere safe to run on the full moons," Hawke said. "And, if you can learn to integrate with a pack before the full moon, maybe we could even put you in with them? I'm sure your instincts would enjoy feeling like you're part of a pack."

Fenris said nothing in response to that, too overwhelmed by such a notion. All this time, he had believed – no, he had _known_ – that he was alone. He would never have a pack, never have friends or those bonds of family and acceptance that his instincts so desperately cried out for. It was a fantasy for him. Yet here Hawke was, telling him there was a chance he could satisfy those instincts in some way.

Even if it was just with a wolf pack, Fenris realised that he wanted to try.

"Fenris … there is one other thing I wanted to ask you."

She was nervous. One foot rolled onto its side and her lower lip sucked in to be chewed between her teeth. Fenris found his eyes drawn to those lips, drawn to a gesture that was far more captivating than it meant to be. He forced his attention away, angry with himself for allowing the slip. He was better trained than that.

"The enclosure that we found you in … there had been a wolf pack in there. And when we found you, they were all dead. We know that was you." Hawke's eyes jumped towards Anders and her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. Fenris did not recognise the strange feeling that burnt through him at that. "But what we don't know is why. Why did you kill that pack, Fenris?"

The situation she described felt like a lifetime ago. Fenris brought the memories back to mind, sifting through the instincts that had overwhelmed him, the training that had activated. In his wolf form, he had not given a second thought to his actions. But now …

"It was expected of me. They were a threat. A test. If I did not kill them, I would be beaten and …" He trailed off, reading the horror and confusion in both Hawke and Anders' faces. "Danarius tested my abilities against wolf packs, in Tevinter. I know now that such a violent response was not warranted. But when I found myself confronted by them, I could only react."

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?" The words exploded out of Anders, loud and full of vitriol. "You're not even going to apologise?"

Fenris regarded him blankly. Anders' anger seemed irrational and misplaced. Under any other circumstances, Fenris would neutralise such a threat. But he had to keep the peace here. He was on Anders' territory, after all.

"I am sorry?" he said slowly. Social cues said this was the correct response to give, yet it only seemed to enrage Anders further.

"Don't, Anders!" Hawke interrupted, her eyes harsh on Anders but softening when they turned to him. "Fenris, it's alright. You didn't know. And hearing that explanation from you helps me to understand you better, so thank you. Now, why don't you come over here and help me cook this food? Something tells me you probably haven't had much opportunity to do this before."

It felt wrong to engage in such a simple, domestic endeavour. Fenris' hands only knew how to break and stab and punch and destroy. Yet with Hawke by his side, offering encouragement and smiling widely whenever he glanced at her, maybe it wasn't so wrong after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS The quote at the start of this chapter is from another song on my writing playlist for this fic!
> 
> Comments give me life <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke had argued long and hard with herself over this course of action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, finally a new update!! :D Life has been super crazy since July ended, so even though I've had most of this written for a while, I haven't been able to finish it until just yesterday. Hope the wait was worth it!

 

_I probably needed to stop feeding the wolves._  
_The closer they got, the more dangerous it was for all of us._  
– Linger, Maggie Stiefvater.

Hawke caught the strap of her backpack before it could fall off her shoulder, hiking it up further. The corridors of the university's Literature and Linguistics building were filled with students in between classes. Most were exiting from the west wing, their early morning lectures finished only a few minutes ago. Face set in concentration, Hawke battled her way against the flow of people.

She was not taking any literature classes this year, nor any linguistics classes. Yet Hawke had another reason for entering this building, for opposing the natural flow of exiting students this early in the day.

Finally making it through the crush of people, Hawke steadied her backpack again and strode towards the offices at the end of the corridor. Most lecturers did not hold office hours this early in the day, only making themselves available via appointment. Hawke did not give this a second thought as she pushed through a scuffed door with chipped paint, entering the office beyond.

It was warm and cozy in the office. Rough wooden chairs were drawn up to an antique desk, while a haphazard bunch of bookshelves covered the walls. Books overflowed from the shelves and the desk, coming to rest in crooked piles on the floor. Sitting with his feet up on the desk and a large travel mug in his hands, the lecturer quirked an eyebrow as she entered unannounced.

"Well, well! And what brings you to my humble office this early on a Friday morning, Hawke?"

"Do I need an excuse to visit my favourite author?" Hawke replied with a smile as she dropped her backpack onto one chair then fell into the other.

"Ah, such praise is music to my ears!" The man chuckled and pulled his feet off the desk, leaning forward to regard her sharply. "But we both know that the science buildings are on the other side of campus. You would have messaged me if it was something simple. So, out with it, what do you need?"

Hawke had argued long and hard with herself over this course of action. It was risky enough that Anders knew about Fenris, though admittedly his help was invaluable. To risk drawing another one of her friends into this mess was not exactly fair. Yet she needed answers. And if there was anyone who could get them, it was this man.

Varric Tethras, world renowned author and lecturer extraordinaire, was the most cunning man Hawke had ever met. His fiction was compelling and gripping. More to the point, he claimed that everything he wrote about was based on fact. Hawke had read several of his books. They were so outlandish and fantastical that she struggled to believe those claims. Yet now, knowing what she knew about Fenris, she had decided to take a chance.

"It's nothing serious," Hawke began, not wanting to pique Varric's interest too thoroughly. "Just something I heard in passing the other day and I'm curious enough that it's frustrating me. I know you've got secret sources for all your books and I wondered if you'd ever come across anything similar in your research."

"Stop making the pitch," Varric said with a crooked smile on his face. "The fact that it's you means I'm already willing to look into it. Just spit it out already."

She hesitated, took a breath, then forged ahead.

"Have you ever heard of something called lyrium?"

The devious, easy-going expression on Varric's face disappeared into shock before hardening into the coldest look Hawke had ever seen from him.

"Where the hell did you hear about that?"

"It was just something someone said and I overheard them," she lied, hoping he would not see through her. Hawke was a skilled enough liar in her own right but Varric was an expert. He could sniff out a lie from a mile away. She could only hope that even if he saw through her ruse, he would respect her enough not to push for the truth.

"And that was enough to make you want to know more?" Varric scoffed and shook his head. "No, Hawke. Not this time. I'm not gonna be the one to drag you into this."

"What are you talking about?" Hawke asked in bewilderment. "Is it dangerous? Is it a weapon? Is-"

"Stop." Varric sighed and glanced towards the office door. Taking the hint, Hawke quickly closed it before returning to her seat. "Look, the idea that you overheard about lyrium in passing is enough to give me chills. I can't tell you much – I won't – but I can tell you this. Yes, lyrium is dangerous. It is deadly in its raw form and kills most people that try to refine it. More than that, lyrium is a classified subject. I'm serious! Mention lyrium to the wrong person and you will end up in some hole where no-one will ever find you again. Ever."

"But what is it? Why is it so dangerous?" Hawke asked desperately, her mind racing as she thought of Fenris. Fenris, who had said something about Danarius injecting lyrium into him. Fenris, who was dangerous and desperate and alone. She needed to know everything she could wring from Varric, for Fenris' sake.

"Drop it, Hawke. Trust me. You don't want to know anything more than you already do."

"Varric, please! I need to know!"

His eyes narrowed and her heart sank as she knew he had seen straight through her. And from that hard look in his eyes, Varric was not about to let this go either.

"How did you really hear about lyrium, Hawke? It wasn't some random word that you caught while eavesdropping. What really happened?"

"I can't tell you," she said as she shook her head.

"Then I can't help you."

"But Varric-"

"You have no idea what you're trying to get involved in!" he hissed harshly. "Governments kill for this stuff, Hawke! I shouldn't even know about it but I'm too curious for my own good and it almost cost me my life. I'm not putting you through that."

He stood up, shoving some books and pens into a satchel.

"Please!" Hawke leant over the desk, grabbing his wrist to force his attention back onto her. Varric glared up at her. "I can't tell you, Varric, I really can't! All I can say is that I heard about lyrium being injected into someone. And I'm concerned about that."

Varric laughed; it was a harsh sound, so unlike the normal hearty laugh that he made. He pulled free of her grip and walked around the desk, aiming for the door.

"If someone really was injected with lyrium, then they're dead. Simple as that. I told you, that stuff is dangerous."

"And what if I told you that I met someone who had lyrium injected into them?"

Varric paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

"I'd say you were lying."

"Then look at me and say it. Because I have, Varric. I met someone who told me they'd been injected with lyrium. And they were alive. Alive and healthy." Well, for the most part. But Hawke doubted that malnutrition counted as an effect of this lyrium stuff.

Varric slowly turned around, his eyes boring sharply into her. Hawke left herself open, willing him to see the truth in her words. Varric's expression dropped into concern and wonder.

"You're telling the truth. But that's impossible."

"Please. Anything you can tell me will be helpful. Like what does it do? Is it energy or a drug? If governments will kill for it, it must be powerful."

Varric sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

"I really shouldn't tell you anything. But if this person you met was telling the truth …" He reluctantly walked back to his desk and sat down. Hawke mirrored his actions, letting Varric take his time. "Lyrium is a very rare mineral. There are rumours that, once processed, it can be used to grant someone enhanced abilities."

"What kind of abilities?"

"The usual kind: strength, speed, vision, hearing, etcetera. Powerful people have been working for decades to successfully process it and use it to enhance others. Just imagine it, an entire army made up of lyrium-enhanced warriors that are faster and stronger than anyone else in the world. No other army would stand a chance."

"Which is why it's such a classified secret," Hawke finished and Varric nodded.

"Exactly. So you can understand my concern, when you say you've met someone who claims to be injected with lyrium. If that's true, you should keep the hell away from them, Hawke. That person will be at the top of every government's Most Wanted list. Getting involved with them will bring you nothing but trouble."

The warnings were nothing she did not already know. The potential effects of lyrium were interesting and Hawke had a dozen new theories spinning through her mind.

A heavy weight settled over her and, perhaps for the first time, Hawke felt as though she finally comprehended just how dangerous her association with Fenris was. Everyone said she should run. Logic and common sense said she should run. But how could she? After everything he had been through, how could she abandon him to struggle for survival on his own?

Every time he flinched, every time he cringed, or bared his teeth or flexed his hands or raked his eyes over the nearest exit points – every single one of those moments was burned into Hawke's mind forever. Maybe her compassion was her greatest weakness, because it meant she could not turn her back on Fenris now. No matter the risks.

"There's one other thing," Varric said. "All the rumours agree on this. Lyrium has a distinct scent. The comparisons vary from person to person but the general consensus is that it smells like nothing else you've ever smelled before, but it's strong and elicits a fight or flight response in you. Like your own biology knows how dangerous it is."

It felt like ice sliding down her spine but Hawke hoped her reaction was not visible. These words were more than enough to confirm it for Hawke that Fenris had been telling the truth. She still remembered the first time she ever caught that scent – she could never forget.

Even now, days after deciding to help him, the scent still made her wary.

"Thanks, Varric," she said and stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"Hawke," Varric called out, his voice heavy and concerned. "You're not gonna do anything stupid, are you? Tell me you're gonna take care of yourself and not get any further involved than you already are."

She smiled back at him but it felt hollow on her face.

"I'll do my best."

She couldn't promise anything more.

* * *

"Wanna get out of the house?"

Hawke watched as Fenris' expression changed from guarded and wary to mildly curious. His shoulders relaxed a fraction and he only glanced to the room's exit points once before responding.

"Is that wise?"

"It's overdue, as far as I'm concerned," Hawke replied boldly. "It's been six days since you moved in with Anders, you must be going crazy in here. So let's go. And don't worry, there's only the night crew at the clinic and no-one will be going out into the reserve tonight. Anders is monitoring the cameras anyway, just in case."

He still hesitated. His hands flexed and the muscles in his jaw jumped. Hawke felt her heart ache in empathy. If she could take all his fear and pain and trauma away, she would do it in a heartbeat.

"Why?"

"Aside from the change in scenery, I was thinking – if you're okay with it – we could try introducing you to one of the packs. We've still got a bit of time before the next full moon so I figured the sooner we start on this, the better." She hesitated a moment, struggling to read his reaction. "Is that something you'd be interested in doing?"

Fenris nodded and slowly walked away from the window. Leaving the upstairs sitting room behind, they headed downstairs and towards Hawke's car. She made no comment about his bare feet but she did pause at the front door to take a coat off the rack and push it into his hands. He scowled but slipped it on all the same.

Hawke had not given any thought to actually having Fenris in her car as a welcome passenger this time. It only occurred to her when they both settled into their seats and she pulled her door closed. That strong, strange smell that could only be _lyrium_ filled the air and for a moment she was frozen, transported back to that night weeks ago when her life had been threatened.

"Hawke?"

"Sorry," she said, hastily starting the engine and following the private road that led to Anders' rear entrance to the clinic. Her heart was erratic in her chest but she refused to let prior experiences dictate her actions now. Fenris would not hurt her, not anymore.

Unlocking the heavily padlocked and secured gates that led into the reserve, Hawke drove through before closing them again. She drove them down the raceways and past the main enclosures. Finally stopping at an enclosure located towards the back of the reserve, Hawke let out a breath and turned to Fenris.

"Wait here, okay? I'm going to call them and see if I can draw them down. Then …" She bit her lip, worrying it for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know if you should be in your wolf form to meet them or not. Maybe human form to start with? See how that goes?"

"Whatever you suggest," Fenris replied and Hawke took in the tight line of his shoulders, the clench of his hands on his legs.

"Don't worry, Fenris. I'm sure they'll love you."

She left the car before he had a chance to scorn that statement. Walking towards the front of the enclosure, Hawke cupped her hands around her mouth and howled.

It took a moment but sure enough, answering howls rose up eerily into the air. Hawke smiled and howled again, keeping the tone bright and cheery. A howl of greeting, of excitement. The wolf pack howled in return and Hawke stepped back. All she had to do now was wait.

They arrived within minutes, a mass of grey-toned shapes emerging from the darkness to venture close to the fenceline. The smaller wolves and pups hung back while the larger ones pressed up to the fence, sniffing intently before rubbing their bodies along the wire. Smiling, Hawke stretched her hands out and scratched them between the chain-link.

"There we are, my beauties. How are you all? Such good beauties!" she cooed to them as they greeted her, the smaller wolves slowly venturing forward until all of the pack had greeted her to some extent.

As the last pack member drifted away, Hawke looked back at the car and gestured for Fenris to approach. A strange emotion flashed over his face – too fast for her to identify it from this distance – before he opened the door and slowly walked towards Hawke.

He walked gracefully but every line of his body was taut in apprehension. Hawke smiled encouragingly and beckoned again.

"It's alright, Fenris. Look, they're waiting to greet you. See?"

The three largest males came up close, eyes locked curiously on Fenris. He regarded them doubtfully, eyes cutting to Hawke for guidance.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice deeper than usual and Hawke was surprised by the shiver that ran down her spine at that tone.

"Of course," she said. "Here, let me introduce you. This one at the front is Grey Eyes. He's the oldest in the pack, technically the father of the pack. This one at his side is his eldest son, Nomad. And the one beside Nomad is Shiloh, who was only added to the pack a year and a half ago. Here, let them scent you."

Hawke almost reached out to grab Fenris' hand but remembered his aversion to physical contact at the last moment. She gestured instead, holding her own hand out towards the fence. Fenris regarded her with a dubious expression but went along with it anyway, slowly offering his hand up to the fence.

Grey Eyes scented him first, the wolf's large nose pressing against the chain-link and snuffling. He pulled back abruptly, eyes intent as he regarded Fenris, before sniffing again. As though some unspoken command had been given, Nomad and Shiloh both pressed forward to scent at the same time.

Their body language was positive, open and welcoming. Hawke could not help the smile that slid across her face. This might actually work.

"This is really good, Fenris. All their body language signs are positive, they seem to like you. If you're up to it, you should try shifting."

She smiled broadly and Fenris stared at her for a long moment, before he blinked and jerkily stepped back.

"Very well. I shall try it."

Hawke's face exploded in a bright flush as Fenris shamelessly stripped out of his clothes where he stood. For someone as wary and reserved as he was, she had not expected him to be so casual with nudity. But perhaps his past experiences with Danarius had burned the modesty out of him.

That thought was more somber than anything else and Hawke shoved all musings away for now. There would be time to think over Fenris' nudity later. Wait – not that she – although his body was very toned and – but that was wrong – after all he'd been through –

_Dammit, Hawke!_

Heedless of Hawke's internal struggle, Fenris calmed his breathing and closed his eyes. Moments later his body contorted and bent, changing shape before Hawke's eyes. Her heart thundered in her chest as a fresh trickle of fear slid through her. Seeing the shift on camera was one thing – seeing it in person was completely different.

On all fours, Fenris regarded the Dumat pack with a wary expression. He glanced towards Hawke and she desperately hoped that he remembered who she was in this form.

Excitement charged the air as the Dumat pack stared at the large white wolf now before them. Nomad began to pace restlessly, his eyes eager. Fenris was still wary and his weight began to shift back, paws slowly sliding away.

Grey Eyes let out a low, chuffing noise. Fenris froze. Grey Eyes continued the noise, body language still open and eyes intent. Slowly, Fenris stopped his retreat and began to edge forward.

Hawke's grin consumed her face when Fenris and Grey Eyes finally met nose-to-nose through the fence. They sniffed at each other and Grey Eyes slowly began to wag his tail. Fenris was the first to pull back, attention diverted to the other two males wolves, who pushed in around Grey Eyes to get to him.

Hawke could hardly believe it. The Dumat pack seemed wholly accepting of Fenris! She could not have hoped for such a positive outcome this early on. Realistically, Hawke had expected a couple of growls or a warning display at the very least. Yet there was nothing but curiosity and welcome.

At length, Fenris drew away from the fenceline and shifted forms again. Hawke felt her face warming again but he dressed too quickly for her to linger on her embarrassment. He turned towards her and she stepped forwards, still grinning.

"Fenris, that was-"

"Did you see?" he cut her off, eyes wide as he reached out and grasped her wrist. Hawke stopped dead, her jaw falling slack. "They were talking to me, they wanted to know more about me. Me! They should hate me and fear me!"

The warm weight of his hand on her wrist felt far better than it should. Hawke's heart stuttered in her chest as every fibre of her being zeroed in on that minor contact. Fenris was touching her. Fenris was _willing_ _ly_ touching her! Her lungs forgot how to breathe and she could do nothing but stare at him for what felt like forever.

The spell broke when he removed his hand. Hawke swayed a little, thrown entirely off-balance. Fenris did not notice; he was too busy staring at the Dumat pack again. Hawke struggled to find her composure.

Yet it was no use. His eyes practically shone under the night stars, casting his features into sharp relief. Her eyes trailed over his bold jawline, over the tendons of his neck, across the sculpted line of his shoulders.

This was dangerous. She should not allow herself to feel such things. She was taking too many risks as it was. Yet as Hawke stood there and watched Fenris watch the wolves, she knew it was too late. Her heart ached in longing and full realisation settled over her.

"Oh no," she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are my fuel <3


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